


Crawl 'til Dawn

by karcathy



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn, Supernatural Elements, Vampires, some dark themes but a lot of humour too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2019-12-16
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:34:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21819001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karcathy/pseuds/karcathy
Summary: Dan was not the sort of person who believed in things he had no reason to, like magic, or himself. He preferred not to hope, for one thing. He’d been let down too many times for that. Phil, on the other hand, seem delighted by anything that couldn’t possibly exist. Dan couldn’t understand it, nor could he tell apart the things that Phil genuinely believed in and those he just believed in because he thought it was funny.  He wasn’t sure Phil knew himself. He found it equal parts infuriating and charming - that was how he generally felt about Phil, most of the time.
Relationships: Dan Howell/Phil Lester
Comments: 28
Kudos: 36
Collections: Phandom Fic Fests Holiday Exchange 2019





	Crawl 'til Dawn

**Author's Note:**

  * For [natigail](https://archiveofourown.org/users/natigail/gifts).



> I wrote this for the phandom fic exchange, which gave a minimum wordcount of 2k, and it clearly got completely out of hand very quickly! I had a lot of fun with it, so I hope it's produced something that's enjoyable (and, well, I think I might be coming back into this verse at some point, so let me know if you're interested in a sequel!)

It was strange how well Dan felt he knew Phil when he’d only met him a few months ago. Well, _met_ was a strong word. They hadn’t yet met each other in person, but they’d started talking online after they’d gotten into an argument on a Reddit thread about supernatural creatures. Dan had wanted Phil to prove they existed; Phil had asked him to prove they _didn’t_. They were forced to take the argument to private messages when the mods locked the thread - _after_ giving them several warnings - and they’d kept arguing since. Somehow, the bickering had led to a kind of friendship. Even when his arguments made Dan want to tear his own hair out, talking to Phil gave his life a kind of joy he rarely experienced these days. Among the generalised dark fog of existence, Phil was like a streetlight. A small source of brightness he could cling to. Despite the fact he’d never so much as seen his face, he felt closer to Phil than to anyone else in his life. 

Phil was quite mysterious - Dan wasn’t sure whether that was on purpose, or if it was just a part of his whole vibe. Dan was someone who felt compelled to overshare everything about himself online, barely restraining himself from sharing full nude photographs. With Phil, he clung to every detail about his real life he let slip. He knew Phil was older than him from his reaction when he’d found out Dan was only 17 when they started talking, but he had no idea how much older he was. He hoped it was more in the realm of early 20s than early 50s, but he’d take what he could get. He’d probably still like Phil even if he did turn out to be an ancient creep. Was that desperate? Well, maybe. He probably should have known Phil was older than him when they first started talking - they’d had to do it through email, and it was only under pressure from Dan that Phil started using MSN messenger. Dan preferred the instant gratification of instant messaging, but he still enjoyed receiving rambling paragraphs from Phil via email. 

He had tried to persuade Phil to video chat with him, but Phil claimed variously to not own a webcam (plausible) and to not be possible to capture on camera (less so). He settled instead for what he could get: evenings spent waiting for Phil to come online, nights spent chatting with him into the early hours. Dan sent pictures of himself, taken on his grainy webcam, and Phil sent back unrelated images he’d found online. It was a weird kind of back-and-forth, but his connection with Phil felt more genuine than anything in his so-called real life. Dan was a born cynic, so he knew that the odds were stacked heavily towards Phil being some kind of weirdo lying online for kicks, but there was some part of him that he let hope this was something real. It helped him get through the days, if nothing else, and even if it turned out to be an elaborate hoax it would be one he’d enjoyed. 

Things began to get exciting for Dan as spring rolled into summer. For one thing, he found out some real-life details about Phil: the city he lived in and his phone number. Now he could text Phil all day, even though he didn’t receive any replies until the evening. That was marginally more entertaining than paying attention in class, anyway. He could also idly look up trains to Manchester when he was bored and Phil wasn’t online, which was far more often than he liked. The trains were more expensive than he could afford, and he had no idea whether Phil would want to meet him, anyway. It was just a fantasy, really. 

The other thing happening as summer came up was, unfortunately, exams. His predicted grades were good, and there was no real reason for him to fail, but he still couldn’t exactly enjoy himself with them looming over him. He spent less time revising than lying on the floor telling himself he should start revising. Getting started was the hardest part, but continuing was also pretty fucking difficult. His only solace in the black hole of revision was whenever Phil logged on in the evening - it seemed to be getting later and later, but he always waited up for him. He complained about his exams, and Phil tried to comfort him, although he didn’t seem to have a good handle on how to do that. Honestly, Dan found chatting with Phil calming in itself. Even when they argued - which they still did, usually on ridiculous topics - he found it soothing. Phil had a naturally calming presence. Even over text. 

The period of time between the exams and results day was the usual cocktail of tension and relief. His 18th birthday came and went, the celebration nothing to write home about, and the only upside of it was the smiley face Phil sent in response to his joke about him seeming like less of a creep now Dan was legally an adult. The only thing that really took Dan’s mind off things was pestering Phil. Phil still refused to share his face, but he was gradually opening up to Dan. It started out small, with jokes about him coming to Manchester, little hints that he might want to hang out. Nothing concrete - never that - but enough to allow a little flicker of hope to grow inside Dan. The thought that someone might genuinely want to hang out with him was almost overwhelming. He wasn’t exactly friendless, but the feeling that someone enjoyed his company was still a strange one. He just had to ignore the little voice that told him this entire thing was built on lies. He couldn’t quite discount the thought, though: too much about Phil was just a little too much of a mystery for him to be entirely sure he was talking to a real person. 

When his results came in, he was - well, crushed was too strong a word for it. He felt almost guilty about feeling disappointed. He’d missed his offer. And really - why wouldn’t he? Why would he have ever expected he’d be good enough? He was lost, now, uncertain what came next. Logically, he knew he should start making a plan, but all he really wanted to do was lie on the floor and stare into the abyss. Unfortunately, there wasn’t a convenient abyss to stare into, so he settled for talking things over with Phil. He wasn’t sure when this internet stranger he knew so little about had become his number one confidant, but these days his first instinct when anything happened was to talk about it with Phil. He wasn’t even sure he _liked_ Phil - he got on his nerves more often than not - but he still liked talking to him more than he liked talking to most people. 

In the end, Dan didn’t so much make a decision as end up following what felt like the path of least resistance. He signed up for resits, logged back into UCAS, and prepared himself to try again. He wasn’t sure it was what he wanted - he had no real idea what _that_ was - but it was what he had, at some point, wanted. He didn’t know how to begin the process of making a whole new life plan. Trying to picture himself with a future he was passionate about was like trying to look into a parallel universe: theoretically, it would be fun, but in reality it was just kind of frustrating. 

It was towards the end of summer that things started to get… interesting. He’d basically become nocturnal, staying up until four or five in the morning chatting with Phil and scrolling mindlessly through Tumblr without having to worry about getting up early for school anymore. That was probably, ultimately, a bad thing, but it made him feel temporarily better about life. He was already a night owl, anyway, so he was happy that Phil seemed to have a similar circadian rhythm to him. Aside from becoming a full time internet-dwelling recluse, Dan didn’t have much going on in his life that summer. No, things only really started to get interesting in August. Or… weird, anyway. Things started happening. Not exactly _to_ Dan, but around him. Animals kept acting strangely - cats were following him around, and one time he could swear a jackdaw had _said_ something to him. He kept getting weird ads, too. And, okay, he knew that modern technology was always listening or whatever, but they weren’t for things he was talking about. They were for some really dodgy looking online stores, selling a mixture of what looked like fetish gear and medieval weapons. There were stories, as well. Weird posts would appear, from people he was _sure_ he wasn’t following, talking about people going missing or turning up dead, always not too far from where he lived, always from someone whose blog was otherwise blank. It was like someone was messing with him, but he had no idea who would do something so _weird_. 

He didn’t want to talk about it with anyone - not even Phil - partly through fear that this wasn’t real, and partly through fear that it _was_. The prospect of this being the product of a broken, paranoid brain was scary, but not quite as scary as something like this _actually happening_ to him. In the middle of the fear, part of him was angry - well, not quite angry, but annoyed - that Phil might have been right after all. That would just be the icing on the fucking cake. 

Since he didn’t want to face up to it, Dan did the next best thing, and tried his best to ignore anything strange going on. If it was a figment of his imagination, perhaps he would be able to get rid of it. And if it was real, perhaps whatever was trying to get his attention would simply give up. It was the best he could hope for, really. He didn’t have time for weird occurrences - he still had to finish rewriting his personal statement and entering himself for the resit exams, and he had to find _something_ worthwhile to do with his gap year so that he didn’t look like a complete boring failure. So, he carried on, trying to filter out the weird shit with his ad blocker, scrolling past anything he didn’t want to see. Ignoring the tingling feeling he got on the back of his neck, and the birds cawing outside his window. Sometimes, the only way to escape was to curl up in his duvet, music blasting into his ears loud enough to drown out even his own thoughts. Something was determined to give him a tough time, and these days, that was usually his own mind.

The only thing he found comfort in, really, was Phil. He still didn’t want to tell him what was happening, afraid of how it might change his view of him, but Phil seemed to know something was up anyway. He even started taking Dan’s suggestions that he travel up to Manchester semi-seriously, instead of treating them like a joke. The leap Dan’s heart made at that was almost enough to distract him from the black box hovering ominously in the corner of his screen, refusing to be dismissed, and the words that he refused to read flickering across it. He still had a problem, though: he couldn’t afford to travel to Manchester, much less to do anything once he was there. 

He weighed up the pros and cons of getting a job quite seriously, and was disappointed to find the pros heavily outweighed the cons. Reluctantly, he applied for a job at Asda, and, even more reluctantly, he turned up to it when he was hired. The banners outside the store were all black and ominous, but by now, he was well-practised at ignoring them. Inside, he found the fluorescent monotony almost freeing. He had something to focus on, something to distract him, and that made it easier to cope with the ominous intrusions. 

It was October by now, the leaves turning red and starting to fall, the streets damp with rain and the wind turning chilly. The weird occurrences, while still not gone, seemed to be relenting somewhat. Perhaps his brain was simply getting bored of torturing him. He was certainly bored of being on the receiving end. He was on the checkout, spacing out while he scanned items through, when it happened. 

“You can’t run away forever,” said the customer, cheerfully opening his wallet. 

“Sorry, what?” Dan said, blinking as he looked up at the middle-aged man in front of him. 

“I said, can I get some cashback, mate?” He was frowning at Dan. “Hey, are you all right? You don’t look so good.”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Dan said, moving his gaze back to the monitor in front of him. It was black, flashing static, patterns he forced himself not to look at. “I, uh, just.” He could feel himself starting to panic, his vision going dark and his breath quickening. Over the tannoy, he could hear his own name being repeated. “Can you hear that?”

“Hear what, mate?”

“I- nothing, I’ve got- I’ve got to go, I’m sorry.” He stood up hurriedly, ripping the headset away from his ear and forcing his way out of the checkout, stumbling over his own feet as he ran towards the exit. Behind him, he could hear the man yelling, and someone else saying something to him, sounding concerned, but he ignored everything, focusing only on escape. He focused on the sound of his feet slapping against the wet pavement, and his breath coming in short, quick gasps. He had to stop running before long, a stitch tearing up his side to remind him of his embarrassing level of fitness. He kept walking, not paying attention to where he was going, just knowing that he had to keep moving. He couldn’t stay here - he could run, he could try at least. He had to try to escape this, whatever it was. Even if it was all in his head. 

Somehow, after some unknown time, he arrived at the train station. He wasn’t sure why his feet had brought him here, shivering slightly in his Asda uniform, but he headed into the ticket office anyway, staring blankly up at the destinations board. He already knew the journey he was going to take; had spent hours thinking about it, memorising the changes and hoping for the ticket price to drop. Walking something like a zombie, he stumbled up to the counter and bought a one-way ticket to Manchester. The first leg of the journey wouldn’t be leaving for another 20 minutes, so he bought himself a hot chocolate and paced along the platform, trying to restore the feeling in his fingers. He really wished he’d thought to pick up his coat, but all he had was the thin fleece of his uniform. At least he’d had his wallet in his pocket, and his phone. He thought about calling someone - but really, who would he call? 

He kept thinking about that as he sat on the train, staring blankly out of the window. He knew who he wanted to call, of course. But he’d never spoken to Phil before - theirs was an entirely text-based friendship. He’d impulsively chosen Manchester as his destination because he knew Phil was there, but he had no idea whether Phil would want to see him once he arrived. He put off telling him - put off the inevitable sting of rejection - until he was standing outside Manchester Piccadilly Station, lost and shivering and alone. It was dark now, and it had started to rain, and Manchester seemed colder and lonelier than he could have imagined. He could feel tears welling up in his eyes, and blinked them away angrily as he pulled out his phone and scrolled through his contacts. He hesitated once more before selecting Phil, holding the phone up to his ear as it dialled. The rain was mixing in with the tears now, streaking down his face, his hair plastered against his head. 

“Hello?” A voice, strange but somehow familiar, with a soft Northern accent. 

“Hi, Phil, sorry,” he said, trying to shield his phone from the rain. “It’s Dan, you know, uh, from Reddit. I’m- uh, well- I’m in Manchester.”

“Oh my god, you’re _what_?” Phil said, undisguised panic seeping into his voice. “Hold on, okay, I’m coming, where _are_ you?” 

“I’m, uh, outside the station. Piccadilly,” he said, before Phil could ask.

“Okay, okay, I’m on my way.” Dan could hear noises in the background, jingling and thudding. “Sorry, I’ve got to hang up on you, I need to call a cab.”

“That’s fine, I’m fine, I’m- thank you,” Dan said, quietly, as the line went dead. 

He stood silently in the rain, watching the cars and buses go past, their headlights flashing by him. He wasn’t sure how long he waited, but his fleece was soaked through by the time a cab pulled up on the pavement and a man in a dark coat got out. He was tall and slim, his long dark hair scraped back into a ponytail, and he was calling Dan’s name. It took him a moment to respond. 

“Phil,” he said, softly, and then louder. Phil looked across at him. His glasses were streaked with rainwater. “It’s me, I’m here.” 

“Dan,” Phil said, sounding relieved as he rushed over. “God, you’re soaked through. Come on, get in the cab.”

Dan let Phil guide him into the car, zoning out again as he talked to the driver. It was warm, and felt safer than anything had in a while. Phil let him sit in silence as the cab took them through the city, eventually pulling up outside a nondescript block of flats. He paid the driver, then led Dan inside and up to a third floor flat. Phil’s flat, presumably. It took him a moment to find the right key, and another moment to wiggle the door open, but then they were inside. It was disordered, but cosy. Phil led Dan over to the sofa, shrugging off his coat as he did so. Dan sat, feeling slightly guilty about the damp patch his soaked clothing was leaving. He still couldn’t stop shivering. He watched Phil hang up his coat and kick off his shoes. 

“So,” Phil said, turning back to him. “You’re here.” Dan nodded mutely. “You want to talk about it?” Dan shook his head. “You want a shower and dry clothes?” Dan nodded, slowly. “Okay.” He moved through the flat, making soft rummaging noises in another room, then came back with a towel and a small pile of clothes. “Bathroom’s this way,” he said, and Dan followed him through. 

Phil left the towel and the clothes in a neat pile on the sink, then left Dan alone. He took a long, hot shower, contemplating drowning himself but ultimately deciding it was too much effort. Instead, he used Phil’s shower gel, enjoying the pleasant fruity smell, and tried to focus his mind on the pleasant sensation of warm water against his skin. He spent too long in the shower, staying until the water started to run cold, then rubbed himself dry on Phil’s towel and dressed himself in Phil’s clothes. He still felt strange, and numb, but he was feeling marginally more human. He went through to the living room, following the sound of the TV. Phil was sitting on the sofa, next to the damp patch Dan had left there. Dan crossed the room quietly, sitting on the floor in front of the sofa, his head leaning against the cushion. His damp hair was starting to curl, drops of water falling on his neck and further dampening the cushion behind him. In front of them, the TV entertained itself with some quiz show or other. Thankfully, there were no ominous images on the screen, just a nervous young man, visibly sweating under the studio lights. 

“So,” Phil said. Dan looked up at him. His expression was inscrutable. “You’re in Manchester.”

“Yeah,” Dan said. He couldn’t quite look Phil in the eye, so he settled for staring at his collar instead. He was wearing a bright red t-shirt, with a pattern of white stars across it. “It’s… Well, it’s a weird story.”

“Tell me,” Phil said, open and non-judgemental. 

Dan did. He told Phil the whole weird, uncomfortable story. Phil’s face was carefully blank, not reacting to the wilder things Dan told him, and Dan was grateful for that. It was painfully difficult to talk about how much his reality had collapsed over the past few months. 

“Well,” Phil said, when Dan was finished. He paused for a moment. “That’s a lot.”

“Yeah,” Dan said. He took a deep breath. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

Phil didn’t say anything, staring into the distance with an unreadable expression. 

“I mean, I guess it’s, you know.” Dan stared at his hands, idly fiddling with a finger. “It’s one of those, you know.” He tapped his temple, looking back up at Phil. “Right?”

Phil didn’t answer. Dan had half-expected him to argue, tell him that this was clearly something supernatural, but he was just staring into space. 

“Sorry,” he said, looking down again, feeling the hot flush of shame up the back of his neck. “I shouldn’t have come here. This really isn’t your problem.”

“What? Oh, no, it’s not that,” Phil said, blinking and looking back at him. “Sorry, I was thinking about- Don’t worry. I’m glad you came. Well, I’m not glad this happened to you, and I’m not thrilled you ran away from home like this, but you know… I’m happy to have you here.”

Dan felt warmth pool in his stomach. “Thanks,” he said. 

“Are you tired?” Phil asked, looking concerned. “You’ve had a long day.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” Dan said, shrugging with one shoulder. “Is it, uh, I mean, could I sleep here?”

“Yeah, of course,” Phil said, sounding surprised that he’d even asked. “I guess I should have given you some pyjamas, huh?”

“This is fine,” Dan said, with a small smile, looking down at the t-shirt and trackies Phil had given him. “Thanks.” He realised he was repeating himself, but he didn’t know what else to say. 

“You can use my bed, I’m gonna be up for a bit,” Phil said, standing up. He offered a hand to Dan, and it took him a moment to accept it, letting Phil help him up. His hand was cold - he could probably use a hot shower himself, after going out in the rain to find Dan. 

“You sure?” Dan asked, giving him an uncertain look. 

“Yeah,” Phil said. 

He kept hold of Dan’s hand for a moment as he started to walk off, gently tugging him after him before releasing him. Dan felt a tingling sensation in his fingers as Phil’s hand slipped out of his. Quietly, he followed Phil through to his bedroom. It was untidy, like the rest of his flat, but the bed was neatly made, and everything looked clean. Come to think of it, it wasn’t so much that the flat was untidy - it was more that it was filled with more things than there was really space for. Dan sat down gingerly on the edge of the bed, afraid it would collapse beneath him. 

“I’ll let you rest,” Phil said, lingering in the doorway, a small smile on his face. “It was nice to meet you.”

“Yeah,” Dan said, looking up. He was a little too slow; Phil was already gone, the door closing behind him. 

He took a moment just to breathe. In, hold, out, hold. He focused on the sensation of his lungs filling and emptying until his heart slowed a little, the tension he was holding through his shoulders relaxing a little. His nerves still singing, he let himself slide into the middle of Phil’s double bed, pulling back the green-and-blue covers to slip underneath. They were slightly cold at first, but soon warmed up with his body heat. He felt comforted, and the bone-deep tiredness his anxiety had been holding at bay swept through him, making him yawn reflexively. Blinking slowly, he allowed his mind to drift. 

⁂

_He was sitting in a warm room, next to a crackling fire. He was comfortable and cosy, but he could feel something outside. Something was coming for him. He felt safe here, but he knew that was an illusion. Something was coming. He clung desperately to the warmth, to the sense of safety, but it was slipping away from him. He wasn’t next to the fire any more. He was sitting in the snow, his trousers wet, his hands wet, too. Something was coming. The liquid on his hands wasn’t snow. It was dark, and sticky. He looked up at the sky, and the stars were gone. There was only darkness, and cold, and blood on his hands. Something was coming. He could hear a noise behind him. He kept trying to turn, but no matter which way he went, it stayed behind him. It was getting closer. He could hear his own heartbeat, loud in his ears, fast. He was standing, now, but he couldn't remember getting up. Now he was in a room, bare stone walls and bare stone floors. No windows, no doors, just him and the cold stone. He heard a voice behind him, or several overlapping voices, saying his name._

_"Dan. Dan. Dan."_

_They got faster, a cacophony of 'Dan's that became indistinguishable as words. Then everything went quiet, as a figure appeared in front of him. They were tall, as tall as he was, and shrouded in a black robe. He couldn't make out their face._

_"Dan," they said, the other voices echoing them. "You cannot keep running away, Dan."_

_"I'm not," he said, defensively. He could hear the lie in his voice. "You're not real, anyway."_

_The figure laughed, a quietly ominous sound that echoed around the room. It sounded like the birds that gathered around his window. "You are afraid," it said, not a question or a judgement, just a statement of fact. "You should be. There are darker forces here than you know."_

_"Fuck off," Dan said, snorting. He could feel himself shivering, the cold deep in his bones, but he stayed defiant._

_The figure seemed surprised. It had no face that Dan could see, but he could feel it - something about what he'd said had unnerved it. "You have a great destiny, Dan," it said, sounding almost reproachful._

_He snorted. "Okay, firstly, destiny isn't a thing," he said, squaring his shoulders defiantly. The effect was somewhat ruined by the shivering, and the fact his arms were still wrapped around his midriff, attempting to hold in some heat. "And even if it was, it can fuck right off."_

_"You cannot ignore your destiny, Dan," it said, sounding like a disapproving parent. The echo had diminished somewhat, reducing the drama of the situation marginally._

_"Watch me," Dan said, snorting dismissively._

_The dream shattered around him, splintering into a million little pieces. He was alone in the darkness. He could finally see the stars._

⁂

Dan woke up slowly, confusion muddling his brain until the memory of where he was surfaced. He had no idea how long he'd slept, but the room was still dark. He felt around for his phone, then froze as he realised there was a weight on the bed. 

"Sorry," Phil said, his pale face barely visible in the darkness. "Did you sleep okay?" 

"Yeah," Dan said, slightly nervously, "How long have you been there?"

Phil laughed. "I just came in to check on you," he said, neatly dodging the question. "It's nearly morning."

"Yeah? What time is it?" 

Phil pulled his phone out of his pocket and checked the screen. "Just before six," he said.

"That's _not_ morning," Dan said, collapsing into the pillow with a groan.

Phil laughed again. "Technically, it is," he said.

Dan just groaned again, throwing one arm dramatically over his face. 

"I washed your clothes," said Phil, putting a neat pile of fabric on the bed next to Dan. "I'll let you get dressed, then we can talk about what's going on." 

Dan felt the weight lift, and heard quiet footsteps crossing the room. He heard the lightswitch flick on, the light leaking around the edge of his arm, then heard the door swing shut. Groaning again, he forced himself to sit up. Next to him, his jeans were neatly folded, with his uniform shirt, his fleece, his pants and his socks on top. He felt a brief flare of embarrassment at the thought of Phil washing his underwear, then dismissed it as he tugged off his borrowed t-shirt and reluctantly traded it for his own clothes. His wallet, keys and phone were under his shirt, sitting on top of his jeans. He checked them quickly, and breathed a quick sigh of relief as he noted they had escaped being washed. He got dressed quickly, then scanned the room for a laundry basket. He couldn’t see one, so he gathered his borrowed clothes and took them with him into the living room. 

“Hey,” he said. Phil looked up from the laptop balanced precariously on his lap, his legs crossed and one knee pushed into the arm of the sofa. 

“Hey,” Phil said. 

Dan glanced around the room. For the first time, he noticed the curtains - heavy duty, and firmly shut. Phil must get really annoyed by light pollution. He let his gaze wander before settling back on Phil, looking at him properly for the first time. He was pale, with long dark hair neatly tied back into a low ponytail. He was still wearing his glasses, and his eyes, behind the dark frames, were a stunning shade of light blue. He looked like he hadn’t slept - his face was drawn, with dark circles around his eyes - but he had a kind of beauty to him that Dan hadn’t really appreciated the night before. Looking at him now, Dan could feel the part of him he kept firmly under lock yelling to be let out. 

“Sorry for stealing your bed,” Dan said, guilt welling up in his stomach. “Did you get any sleep?”

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” Phil said, dismissively. “How about you? Feeling any better?”

“Yeah.” Dan came across the room and sat cautiously on the sofa, leaving a few inches of space between him and Phil. He laid the borrowed clothes gently across the arm. “Thanks. I guess I should have gone to a hospital or something instead of, you know, imposing on you.”

“It’s fine,” Phil said, with a smile. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

Dan nodded quietly, a small smile quirking his lips. He probably looked like a right mess - his hair was curly and disarrayed, but there was nothing he could do about that. 

“Do your parents know where you are?” Phil asked, and Dan felt the guilty feeling return, sharply stabbing into his stomach.

“Shit,” he said, pulling his phone out of his pocket. Sure enough, he had a series of missed calls and texts that progressed from annoyed to panicked. He tapped out a quick text to his mum, telling a half-truth: that he’d stayed over at a friend’s and forgotten to tell her. “She’s probably asleep,” he said. Phil frowned. “I’ll call her when she’s awake.” The frown stayed, but Dan ignored it. “So,” he said, looking at the blank screen of his phone. “Guess I can’t stay here forever.”

“No, probably not,” Phil agreed. He’d closed his laptop, sliding it onto the floor, and turned to face Dan. 

“Things have been… okay, since I’ve been here,” Dan said, cautiously. He didn’t want to mention the dream. Other than that, everything had been normal. And dreams were always weird, anyway. 

“That’s good,” Phil said. He also sounded cautious. He was probably scared Dan was lying - that he was even crazier than he’d admitted. 

“I don’t know what to do,” Dan said, with a sigh. “Obviously I’ve got to go home, but I’m just worried things will get bad again.”

Phil nodded quietly. 

“Should I go to a hospital? What do you think?” Dan looked up at Phil, his eyes wide and pleading. 

Phil hesitated. He looked torn. 

“Do you really believe in all that weird shit you talk about?” Dan asked. “I mean, do you think - like, _really_ think - that this is real, and I’m not crazy?”

The silence stretched on for a long moment, Phil’s face contorting with emotion. Finally, he broke it.

“Yes.”

Dan looked across at him, everything he’d been prepared washed away by the genuine surprise he felt at that reply. He could tell, just by the expression on his face, that Phil really meant it. He didn’t know how to respond to that. He just stared blankly at him. 

“Look, I-” Phil was the first to break the silence, but he stopped almost as soon as he started, a frustrated break in his voice. 

“Do you know something I don’t?” Dan asked. He wanted to be angry, but he couldn’t summon up the feeling. His voice was flat instead. “Do you have- I don’t know, some kind of _proof_ I don’t?” He kept his gaze on Phil as he spoke, scouring his expression for clues. “Or is it just that you’re as crazy as I am?” He laughed, hollow and humourless.

“You’re not crazy, Dan,” Phil said, his voice soft and gentle. “I just- I’m not the right person for this.” He sounded frustrated, but not at Dan. “I’m really sorry. I know- I mean, I know you’re going through a lot, and it’s difficult. But I just can’t be the person to help you here.”

“Why not?” Dan wasn’t annoyed. He should be, but he couldn’t find the power to really feel anything. 

“It’s… complicated,” Phil said, looking pained. 

“What could _possibly_ be so fucking _complicated_?” Dan snapped, standing up and pacing across the room. 

“You should go.” Phil was still talking quietly, his tone gentle. “It’s not right for you to be here.”

Dan glared at him.

“I really am sorry,” Phil said, standing up. He walked across to the door, his hand resting on the latch. “We probably shouldn’t talk again.”

“So that’s it?” Dan said, freezing in place. “You’re kicking me out, are you?”

Phil looked upset, but he nodded, opening the door. 

“Fuck you,” Dan said, marching past him into the hallway. “You know what? _Fuck_ you.”

The door swung shut behind him, but not before he looked back, catching a glimpse of Phil’s face. He looked sad - but more than that, he looked afraid. Why the hell would he be afraid?

⁂

Dan’s anger began to seep away as he left the building, stepping out into the dim early-morning twilight. He felt lost instead, and more alone than ever. He had no idea where he was. He pulled his phone out of his pocket. It flickered to life, then flashed up the low battery symbol. Not surprising, but disappointing anyway. Dan tried to get it to respond, let him do anything, but it died quietly in his hand. He couldn’t muster up any annoyance; this was about how things _would_ be going. He set off in a random direction, hoping against hope that he would find his way back to the station. It wasn’t like things could get much worse, after all. 

Correction: things could get slightly worse. He did reach the station, eventually, but not without being rained on, pissed on, heckled, and mugged. They took his now-useless phone, and the £10 in cash he had in his wallet, but mercifully left him his debit card - or, more likely, were too stupid to find it. They also left him with a black eye. He hadn’t tried to fight back, which had annoyed them. One of them spat at him as he left. Dan just ignored him. The train towards home was, at least, dry, and relatively clean, by the standards of British public transport. It didn’t smell of piss, at least, unlike Dan. 

The journey felt longer in this direction. Back in Wokingham, he stood outside the station for a long moment, before begrudgingly accepting that he would have to walk home. It was a long, tedious walk, and his feet were aching by the time he got there. He really, really didn’t want to talk to anyone right now. He slipped his key into the door, hoping that no one was home, or, if they were, that he could slip past them unnoticed. The house was quiet - a good sign - so he kicked his shoes off by the door, and headed up to the bathroom. He piled his dirty clothes up on the floor while he waited for the water to warm up. He showered quickly, efficiently, not making a luxury of it. He had to walk, dripping and naked, along the hallway to the linen closet afterwards, having forgotten his towel. Fortunately, he was still alone. He dressed quickly, and took his dirty clothes down to the kitchen, shoving them into the washing machine. It took him a while to figure it out - he wasn’t used to doing his own laundry - but he managed to set it off, hopefully on an appropriate cycle. He went back up to his room, closing the door behind him, and pulled out his laptop. He tapped his fingers impatiently against the case as it booted up. MSN launched automatically, and Dan held his breath as it signed him in. He scanned his friend list - that didn’t take long - and felt a sharp stab in his chest when he saw Phil’s name was gone. He’d really meant it - for whatever reason. That hurt. More than leaving, knowing he was really gone - it started up an aching pain in his chest, a quiet longing for what he’d lost, or never had. 

He closed his laptop after that, lying on his bed and staring into space instead. He felt a deep, unfillable emptiness inside of him. It was only when he heard the sound of the door opening that he realised he was also really, really hungry. He lay still for another moment, then sighed, forcing himself to get up. He went quietly down to the kitchen, still reluctant to talk to anyone. He made it to the fridge unhindered, and stared into its glowing, white depths, hoping for inspiration. 

“Dan, is that you?” He heard his mum’s voice from behind him, laced with worry and annoyance. “Why weren’t you answering your phone? I was worried sick.”

“Sorry,” he muttered, letting the fridge door swing shut. He didn’t look at his mum, turning to the next cupboard instead. “I lost it.”

“Well, that was silly of you.” She definitely sounded more annoyed than worried now. “Who do you think’s going to get you a new one, huh?”

“I’ll get it myself, mum,” Dan said, rolling his eyes at the loaf of bread in front of him as he reached for the crisps above it. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Well, let me know next time you plan on disappearing like that,” she said, reaching across and taking the packet of crisps out of his hand. “And stop snacking, you’ll ruin your dinner. _Boys_.” She said this in an exasperated tone, tutting as she finished, but she reached up and ruffled Dan’s hair affectionately. “I’ll call you when it’s ready.”

“Fine,” Dan huffed. His stomach rumbled audibly as stalked out of the kitchen and back to his bedroom. Despite himself, he felt somewhat comforted by the normality of it all. Sure, he _may_ have had a psychotic break and ruined a perfectly good online friendship, but at least his mum didn’t know anything was going on. That was something. 

The rest of his evening was refreshingly normal. Nothing ominous hovered on the edges of his vision, and there were no unusual noises from outside. His mum still seemed vaguely annoyed by him, but Adrian and his dad were acting perfectly normally, as if he’d never been gone. Maybe they hadn’t noticed. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. 

He went to bed early, not wanting to stay up with no one to talk to. No Phil to talk to. For a long time, he couldn’t sleep, staring at the ceiling for hours. It almost didn’t bother him. He found a kind of peace in that blank stare, like the static between radio stations. He didn’t notice when he drifted into sleep, but he noticed when he started to dream. It was the same dream as the night before, more or less, but he felt less afraid and more angry now. He stormed through the dreamworld like he owned the place - did he own his own psyche? Who could say? He yelled at the mysterious figure who haunted him. He had had _enough_. 

He woke up still angry, to the sound of birdsong. It wasn’t quite light yet, and he groaned when he saw the time on his alarm clock. He was pissed off at a lot of things. Mostly himself, though. He was the root of all of his own problems, after all. Grumbling to himself, he sat up in bed, and debated with himself again about going to the hospital. Phil had said he didn’t think he was crazy, but he’d also said he couldn’t say why in a way that made _him_ sound pretty crazy, so Dan wasn’t about to take his word for it. On the other hand, he hadn’t heard anything that made a psych ward sound fun, and - weird dreams aside - he seemed to have stopped hallucinating now. So… the best move was probably to hope things had blown over, then. Dan had always considered inaction to be the best form of action, so he was pretty happy with that plan. 

He had a relatively normal couple of days. He went to work, he came home, he spent mindless hours online, he slept. He didn't see anything that wasn't there or hear anything that hadn't been said. Most of the time, he managed not to think about Phil. But only mostly. He still searched for Phil's profile on every site he used, stared at his avatar with a sickly mixture of anger and regret roiling in his gut. He got a new phone - a cheap, basic flip phone that was all he could afford. He programmed Phil's number into it (when had he memorised that?) but didn't call it, didn't text him. He just looked at it sometimes, an empty text field open in front of him. He thought idly about pretending to be someone else, but that wasn't what he wanted. He wanted Phil to talk to _him_ again. He wanted Phil to apologise for being ridiculous, and he wanted to forgive him. He _wanted_. 

⁂

He really had thought he was better. He was even starting to feel - not happy, exactly, but less empty, some of the time. His dreams were - not normal, but a normal kind of weird. The mysterious figure seemed to have left him alone. 

Sometimes, when things seem too good to be true, it's because they are. Dan had left the house - not something he tended to do unless he had to, but he'd argued with his dad and the tension still lingering inside was too much for him to take. He'd started walking, his hands thrust in the pockets of his jacket, already regretting not bringing more layers. It was already dark, at just gone five, and the wind sliced through his clothes like a knife. He didn't have a destination in mind, just the need to get out. He walked without paying attention to his surroundings, so it was no surprise when he almost crashed into someone. He mumbled an apology and tried to move past, but they had grabbed his arm with a vice-like grip and refused to let go.

" _You_." Their voice was more of a hiss, full of venom. 

"What?" Dan didn't try to disguise the irritation in his voice. He looked up at their face, lifting his gaze from the ground ahead of him. It wasn't anyone he recognised. Of course. Their features were twisted with disgust, making them look almost feral. "I don't know you," Dan said, trying to wrest his arm from their grip. They were stronger than he expected, and their nails were digging through the fabric, sharp enough for him to feel. 

"I know _you_ ," they said, their voice still low and vicious. Dan couldn't take his eyes off them, some primal instinct telling him not to risk it, but in his peripheral vision, he could see the street around them was empty of people. "You're back."

Dan was really starting to feel pissed off now. "Look, I don't know who you think I am," he said, reaching up to grip the wrist of the hand holding his arm. "But you really need to _fuck off_." He squeezed, hard, twisting their wrist until their grip slackened and he could pull away. 

They grinned, their teeth glinting in the streetlights, the look on their face shifting to one of glee. "You don't know what you are," they said, dancing backwards on the balls of their feet. 

“I know what _you_ are,” Dan retorted. “You’re a dick.”

They laughed. 

“Leave me alone, all right?” Dan said, shoving his hands back into his pockets. “Just fuck off.”

He started walking off, continuing in the direction he’d been walking. He glanced back out of habit, but the street was empty. The stranger had vanished. The whole way home, he felt uneasy - like he was being watched. 

Dan focused, as much as he could, on making his life feel normal in the lead-up to Christmas. He started applying for things, looking for work experience and internships that could help support his application and, more importantly, distract him. He kept thinking about Phil, ricocheting between being angry at him and wishing he could talk to him again. The visions and the dreams didn’t stop completely, but he got better at ignoring them. He coped, most of the time. The holidays were hardest - more time spent with his family, with no distraction. His other friends had moved on while he’d stagnated and struggled, and now talking to them felt like talking through a veil. They felt less real, somehow. Or maybe that was him. 

Things got better in January, and worse. He started his internship in London, which was excruciating but distracting, and he started trying to revise for his resit exam, mostly unsuccessfully. The good news was that he had less time to think about Phil. The bad news was that he had less energy to control his thoughts. The visions started popping up again at inconvenient times, so he spent most of the internship focusing more on trying not to look crazy than actually learning anything. It was exhausting, mentally and physically, and he ended up isolating himself even more. Even though being alone with his thoughts was the last thing he needed, it was too difficult to keep up the facade of normality all the time. He started talking to himself. Not to the visions, or the birds, but to himself - chattering away when he was alone about anything on his mind, drowning out the things that weren’t there with whatever mindless thing he thought of. That actually helped his revision, in a way: the psychology textbook was a good source of material, and it hopefully came across as a little more sane. Hopefully, to an outsider, Dan just looked like a boy stressed about an upcoming exam, not one haunted by irritating visions. 

The day after the resit exam - which he felt curiously optimistic about, despite the ominous stare of the invigilator - he got an email from UCAS. He hadn’t exactly forgotten about applying to Manchester - it was more that he’d buried it with everything that reminded him of Phil, where it couldn’t hurt him. They’d given him an offer. Not just any offer; it was unconditional - they must have liked something about his application, despite his grades not being good enough. It was a good uni, too. Proximity to Phil had been a bonus, not his reason for applying there. Now Phil was out of the equation, surely he should be able to decide purely based on merit, but he couldn’t quite shut down the part of him that was desperately searching for any excuse to see Phil again. Anyway, Manchester was a big city. He could go the whole 3 years without running into Phil. He wasn’t sure whether that was a good thing. It should be, probably. 

He didn’t have to decide right away. He had time - time to wait for other offers. The two weeks in India seemed to help, a little. Perhaps the shadows that haunted his mind hated the sun - they didn’t bother him at all while he was away. His results came back in March - he’d gotten the A he needed, so his options were wide open. York offered him an interview. He even went, but he was going through the motions. He’d already made up his mind. Phil might not want him there, but Manchester did, and he was too stubborn to let Phil take the city for himself. He was emphatic about it, to the part of his brain that sat there and judged him: he _wasn’t_ going there for Phil. He couldn’t care less about Phil. Who did Phil think he was, anyway? He couldn’t stop Dan from going, and he wouldn’t. 

There was, technically, a long time between March and September. Dan couldn’t corroborate that; every day blurred into the next. Five months passed, somehow, with nothing happening. He wasn’t really living in that time; not in any sense that he could agree with. He was just existing, one day to the next, waiting for whatever happened to him next to happen. He had nothing to live for, really, and nothing to die for either. He had nothing but the ghosts that haunted him. No - that wasn’t right. He didn’t have any ghosts. Just himself. The dream-figure hadn’t left him alone, either. Dan kept telling them to fuck off, but it just didn’t seem to stick. Instead, he just started talking to them. He still wouldn’t let them tell him about his supposed destiny, but he started venting to them about everything going on in his life. It was kind of like having a weird, ominous therapist who never said anything helpful, just listened, and tried occasionally to tell him about his destiny. It was an odd relationship. It had also, somehow, become the closest thing Dan had to friendship in his life at the moment. The only person he’d opened up to had cut him off completely, leaving him floating free in the void without anything to tether him to reality. Everything he had left was bitter and lonely. 

It felt weird, travelling to Manchester again. He hadn’t been back since then - hadn’t had to go back - but here he was. It felt different, and the same. It wasn’t raining today. The university wasn’t anywhere he recognised, but the memory of his last visit haunted him anyway. His parents helped him move his stuff into his room - a generic student room in the first year halls. He was moving on autopilot, unable to think of anything but how collossal of a mistake this was. He sat on his bed, and tried to shut off his brain. It wasn’t working; all he could think about was Phil. How safe he’d felt. How his face had looked, at the very end, as he was leaving. 

There were events happening, introductions for new students, but Dan couldn’t face other people at the moment. He stayed in his room instead, his thoughts spinning until he felt dizzy. The walls felt like they were pressing in on him, crushing him under their bland off-white weight. He stayed there, still and quiet, until he couldn’t stand it any more. It was getting late; he’d spent at least an hour doing nothing, and most of the day had been spent travelling and unpacking. He was probably hungry, but he felt detached from his body and its needs. Instead, he walked. When he got tired, he caught a bus, then another bus, continuing aimlessly until he was walking along a street that looked somehow familiar. He turned a corner, his steps slowing as he realised where he was. He hadn’t meant to come here - hadn’t even remembered the address - but here he was: outside the block of flats where Phil lived. Or, where he had lived, nine months ago. Dan had no way to know whether he was still living there. He had no way to know anything about him now. 

He slowed to a stop as he drew level with Phil’s building, sinking onto the low stone wall opposite it. He stared up at the windows, trying to work out which one was Phil’s, but he couldn’t remember which side his flat was on. It was dark now, and cold, the wind biting through the thin fabric of his jacket. He needed warmer clothes, really. He wasn’t prepared for a Northern winter. He started to shiver, but he didn’t get up. He was waiting for something. He didn’t know what, but he was waiting. Something was going to happen. 

The door across the street opened, and a figure emerged. Tall - but not quite as tall as Dan, he knew. Dark haired and slender, although he was bundled up in a dark winter coat now, any details impossible to make out. He turned to check the door had closed properly behind him, then strode up the path to the pavement. He froze as he reached the street, his eyes lifting and locking onto Dan. He was between streetlights, obscured by darkness, but Dan could picture the expression on his face. Dan sat still, quiet, his eyes fixed on Phil. The street was empty apart from them. There was a long, still moment of frozen silence, then Phil crossed the street. 

“So, you’re here,” he said, standing in front of Dan and looking down at him. 

“Yeah,” Dan said, shrugging with one shoulder. “Guess I am.”

Phil hesitated. He looked confused, like Dan had said something he hadn’t expected. 

“So…” Phil let his voice trail off, then squared his shoulders, looking at Dan with a new air of defiance. “You’ve come for me, I suppose?”

Dan snorted. “What, you think I’m that desperate?” He probably was. Why else was he here?

“No, I- What?” Phil frowned. “What does that mean?”

“I’ve got other friends, you know,” Dan said. Actually, at this point, that was probably a lie. He hadn’t spoken to any of his friends in a while. “I didn’t come here to stalk you.”

Phil raised one eyebrow, an implicit _Then what are you doing outside my flat?_ “That’s not what I meant,” Phil said, with a soft sigh. 

Dan stared at him blankly. 

“Aren’t you here to kill me?” Phil said quietly, sitting on the wall beside him, a careful gap between them. 

“What?” Dan felt wrong-footed, suddenly, like he’d been reading from a completely different script. “Why the fuck would I want to kill you?”

“Well, you’re, you know, the _Chosen One_ or whatever you want to call it,” Phil said, waggling his hands in approximate air quotes. “And, I’m, you know.”

“You’re _what_?” Dan asked, irritation seeping into his voice. He was really tired of cryptic bullshit by now. 

“You know,” Phil said, his voice hushed. “Don’t make me say it. I hate saying it.”

“Saying _what_?” Dan said, his voice rising. “You know, it’s been months of this bullshit, and no one has explained what’s _actually_ going on. Not you, not the weirdo in my dreams, not _any_ of the fucking voices.” He snorted. “I mean, not that I believe it’s real or anything. It’s just annoying.”

Phil looked exasperated now. “Dan, I’m a _vampire_ ,” he said. “Have you really spent the last 9 months doing fuck all?”

“Fuck off,” Dan said, automatically shoving his shoulder. Phil didn’t move, as unyielding as stone. “Vampires aren’t real, and even if they are, they’re not _you_. And I spent the past 9 months getting into uni, fuck you very much.”

“You’re not meant to be going to university,” Phil said, staring at Dan. “You’re meant to be, you know, killing people like me.” He made a stabbing motion with one hand, presumably indication a stake-to-the-heart action. 

“Okay, so first you’re saying I have a stupid destiny, and now you’re saying I can’t go to uni?” Dan said, allowing himself to grin a little. “Maybe you’re the crazy one, mate.”

“But- the visions,” Phil said. He was still frowning. “You’ve been chosen, Dan.”

“Chosen by who?” 

Phil shrugged.

“See, it’s all bullshit,” Dan said, shrugging as well. “Destiny can’t control me.”

“I mean,” Phil said, still sounding wrong-footed. “I guess, but… you really just ignored it?”

“Well, it gets easier,” he said, with a wry smile. “They only have so many tricks up their sleeves, you know? Plus, they were _super_ cryptic about it. Nine months of prophetic dreams and the only way I find out it’s meant to be about vampires is you telling me? _Not_ that I believe you, by the way.”

“Course you don’t,” Phil agreed easily, making Dan squint at him suspiciously. “Hey, it’s in my interests if you don’t think we’re real, right?”

Dan laughed. “Look,” he said, somewhat reluctantly. “Maybe there _is_ something going on here. I’m like… at least 5 per cent more willing to believe in vampires than I was last year.”

“That’s something,” Phil said, with a smile. “So… where did we settle on wanting to kill me?”

“I don’t want to kill you, Phil,” Dan said, forcing himself to be serious. “Hand on my heart, even if I believed all of this nonsense, I’m not going to go around killing someone just because of what they are. Not without a good reason. Or a good weapon.”

Phil laughed. “Honestly, I’m not sure what’s going on with you,” he said. “I mean, I’ve not encountered a slayer before. I usually manage to stay pretty well under the radar. Figures that I’d just happen to meet one online, huh?”

“So… there’s more people like me?” Dan asked, trying not to let anything like hope slip into his voice. 

“There have been,” Phil said, looking down at his hands. “I don’t know much about the lore, really. I haven’t been around all that long.”

“Oh yeah? How old are you, anyway?” Dan asked. “You never told me.”

“No, I didn’t want you to think I’m a creep!” 

“Well, you already said you’re a vampire,” Dan said, with a smirk. “Can’t get much creepier than that, can it?”

“Guess not,” Phil said, with a chuckle. “I’m… let me see. One hundred and five, I think? Yeah, I think that’s right.”

“Fuck off, you are _not_ ,” Dan snorted. 

“I was born in 1905, if you want to check my maths,” Phil said, with a cheeky grin. “It’s not really my strong suit.”

“You don’t look over a hundred,” said Dan, peering at Phil’s face suspiciously, searching for wrinkles that weren’t there. 

“Well, I was turned when I was about twenty-two,” he said, with a shrug. “You don’t stop ageing, exactly, but it sure slows it down.”

“Bullshit.” “Ask me anything,” Phil said. 

“Fuck off, I don’t know history,” Dan said, with a laugh. “I don’t believe you.” 

Phil seemed to accept that, or know that it was a lie: Dan couldn’t help believing him, despite his desperation not to. Something inside of him just accepted everything that Phil was saying as the simple, obvious truth. He fought against it, but it was a losing battle. 

“I think you’re full of shit,” Dan reiterated. 

Phil nodded. 

“But, if we were working on the hypothetical premise that you’re not, I wouldn’t want to kill you,” he continued. “I’d like… to be friends again.” He felt his breath catch in his throat. He couldn’t look at Phil. 

“That seems like a bad idea,” Phil said, carefully. “You know, in case you decide to start taking your destiny seriously.”

“Phil, please,” Dan said, managing to look at his face his time. “I don’t know anyone else I can talk to.”

Phil hesitated for a moment, then held his pinky finger out to Dan. “Promise you won’t kill me?”

“I promise,” Dan said, with a small laugh, entwining his finger around Phil’s. “Promise you won’t suck my blood?” He resisted the temptation, barely, to do a bad movie-vampire accent. 

“I would never,” Phil said, sounding offended. “I don’t kill people, you know.”

“How come?” Dan said, looking at him curiously. 

“Uh, because killing people is wrong, maybe?”

Dan laughed. “Don’t you have to, though? Like, to eat or whatever?”

“No, these days I have an arrangement with a blood bank,” Phil said, shaking his head. “It’s kind of gross reheated, but not as bad as animal blood, and it’s easier than keeping thralls.”

“Did you used to kill people?” Dan couldn’t help himself; he was irrepressibly curious. 

“Sometimes,” Phil said, looking uncomfortable. “I don’t like to think about it, though.”

“What about other things? Does a stake really kill you?”

“I think a stake would kill most people, Dan.”

Dan laughed. “You know what I mean, though.”

“I really don’t want to talk about what can and can’t kill me,” Phil said, a slight tone of distress coming into his voice.

“Okay, okay. But what about garlic?” Dan asked, grinning at him. 

“It’s kind of gross, yeah, but it wouldn’t kill me,” Phil said, rolling his eyes. 

“That’s pretty tragic. Can you turn into a bat?”

Phil laughed. “Uh, sometimes. I haven’t really gotten the hang of it.”

Dan paused for a moment, feeling something click in his brain. “Wait - you’re nocturnal, right?”

“Yeah,” Phil said. “Not a fan of the sun. It hurts.”

“I can’t believe I never realised you only ever talked to me at night.”

Phil laughed. “Well, you were pretty nocturnal yourself.”

“Only sometimes,” Dan protested. “Shit, what other clues did I miss? You never mentioned drinking blood before, right?”

“No, I managed to keep that secret,” Phil said, with a laugh. 

Dan could feel his teeth starting to chatter. “Fuck, it’s cold,” he said, thrusting his hands deeper into his jacket pockets. 

“Oh, shit, yeah,” Phil said, standing up. “You don’t even have a coat, Dan, what were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t,” Dan said, rolling his eyes. “Obviously.”

“Come on, let’s go inside,” Phil said, offering him a hand. 

Cautiously, Dan took it. He followed Phil up to his flat, strange and familiar all at once. It was warm inside. 

“Do you feel the cold?” he asked, shrugging off his jacket and hanging it on the back of the door. 

“Kind of,” Phil said, taking off his own coat. “It doesn’t really bother me so much, but I don’t really like it. And it’s hard to get warm.”

Automatically, Dan reached lifted their joined hands, touching the back of Phil’s hand to his cheek. “Fuck, yeah, you’re freezing.” 

“It’s the being undead,” Phil said, poking his tongue out at him. “Do you want anything? I don’t usually keep human food in, but I have coffee.”

“Vampires drink coffee?”

“I like it,” Phil said, defensively. “I have tea, too. Liquids are okay. We don’t do so well with solid food.”

“Weird,” Dan said, following Phil into the kitchen. “Can I have a tea?”

“Sure,” said Phil, flicking the kettle on and opening a cupboard. “What kind?” Inside, there was row upon row of brightly coloured boxes. 

“Shit, I don’t know,” Dan said. “Just regular tea.”

“Earl grey?”

“Sure.”

Phil pulled a box out, then opened another cupboard, taking out two mugs. He popped a teabag into each mug, then tapped out an impatient rhythm on the counter as he waited for the kettle to boil. 

“Here you go,” he said, handing Dan a mug. It was warm, and pleasantly fragrant. “Milk?”

“Yeah, please.”

Dan watched with interest as Phil opened the fridge. It was empty aside from a small carton of milk. 

“No fridge full of blood?” he asked, as Phil poured a splash of milk into his tea. 

“No, I keep it in the freezer,” Phil replied, adding milk to his own tea then returning the carton to the fridge. “It keeps longer.”

“Oh,” Dan said, nodding sagely and taking a burning sip of his tea as he tried to look like he hadn’t just been joking. 

“Sorry, it was probably weird to tell you that,” Phil said, cradling his mug in his hands. 

“Maybe a bit,” Dan agreed. 

Phil smiled. It was a warm, gentle smile. Dan found himself peering at his teeth, searching for fangs. He tried not to make it obvious. 

“They’re retractable,” Phil said. Clearly, Dan had been being obvious. “See?” He bared his teeth, and his fangs popped out, extending to nearly an inch in length. Dan felt something twist in his stomach. 

“Cool,” he said, with a grin. 

Phil laughed, his fangs sliding back into place. He went back through to the living room, and Dan followed without thinking. They slid onto the sofa next to each other, the careful distance Phil had left before disappearing, their knees bumping together. 

“I can do this,” Dan said, resting his mug against his knee as he balled up one hand into a fist and shoved it into his mouth. 

Phil laughed. “Cool,” he said. 

Dan extracted his hand, bring it back down to his mug. He wasn’t sure why he’d done that. “Yeah,” he said. 

They sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes, quietly sipping their tea. 

“So,” Phil said eventually, seeming to pick up an invisible thread of conversation. “You’re at uni now?”

“Yeah, Manchester uni,” Dan said. “Obviously. Studying law.”

“Right, yeah,” Phil said, nodding. “You said you wanted to do law, didn’t you?”

Dan shrugged. “I guess.” He paused, then looked at Phil. “Do vampires go to uni?”

Phil laughed. “I was at uni when I was- you know.” 

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” Phil said, looking down at his tea. “I didn’t end up graduating.”

“So what do you, like, do? Do you have a job, I mean?”

“I’ve had a few jobs,” he said, smiling. “It’s more difficult than it used to be. Harder to fake things. Not sure most people would believe my original birth certificate.”

“Huh,” Dan said. He paused. “I never really thought about that. You know, the bureaucracy of immortality.”

Phil laughed. “Most people don’t, I think.” He hesitated for a moment. “I’m not sure what the others do. I don’t really talk to any of them.”

“Other vampires, you mean?” Dan said, with a mixture of curiosity and amusement. 

“Yeah,” Phil said, with a laugh. “I’m kind of an introvert. And I guess a lot of them are probably, you know, murderers or whatever.”

Dan laughed. “I think that’s racist,” he said. 

“Well, I can’t be racist against myself,” Phil argued. 

“I think you can,” Dan said, pressing the matter for its own sake. “It’s like, internalised prejudice or whatever.”

“Well, I’m _right_ ,” Phil said. He was smiling anyway. 

“You can be racist _and_ right,” said Dan, giving Phil a pointed look. “It’s the principle.”

“Sure,” Phil said, with a roll of his eyes. 

“So… before,” Dan said, looking down at his mug and stealing glances at Phil through his eyelashes. “You kicked me out because you, what, thought I’d come here to kill you?”

“No,” Phil said immediately. “Well, maybe. It’s complicated. I didn’t know what to do.” His voice had gone up, a slight pleading tone kicking in. 

“It was kind of shitty,” Dan said, fixing his gaze on his hands. 

“I know,” Phil said, his tone gentle. “I’m sorry.”

Dan just nodded, trying to swallow the lump in his throat. 

“I’ll try to make up for it,” said Phil, reaching across to awkwardly pat the back of Dan’s hand. “I can, you know, help you do research and hunt bad vampires or whatever. Like _Buffy_.”

“What, you’re my Spike?” Dan said, with a startled laugh. “Or, no, Angel, I guess?”

“I’m less dramatic, I think,” Phil said, smiling. 

“Hmm.” “Shut up.”

“So, you like _Buffy_?” Dan asked, grinning. “Is it accurate?”

“Okay, first off, I _love_ _Buffy_ ,” said Phil. “And of course it’s not accurate, it’s a TV show.”

“What other vampire fiction are you into?” Dan drew his legs up onto the couch, turning to face Phil. “ _Twilight_?”

“What’s _Twilight_?” Phil asked, his face scrunching up in a confused frown. 

“It’s, you know, there’s the movie.” Dan struggled to explain the phenomenon he’d only really discovered through the Tumblr posts making fun of it. “With the sparkly vampires.”

“I haven’t seen it,” Phil said, shrugging one shoulder. 

Dan sighed. “Well, I don’t know, what about _Dracula_ , then?”

“Before my time,” Phil said, with a grin. “I like non-vampire things, too.”

“Yeah? Like what?”

Phil’s eyes went wide, a deer-in-the-headlights expression on his face, as he struggled with the question. Dan laughed. 

“Okay, okay, you’re a vampire who loves _Buffy_ ,” Dan said. “That’s it.”

“Shut up,” Phil said, shoving his knee lightly. “Come on, how long have we known each other? We spent ages talking before, you know.” He trailed off awkwardly, shooting Dan a nervous look. 

“No, yeah, we did,” Dan said. “But you just spent the whole time lying!”

“I wasn’t lying!” Phil protested. “I just… left some things out, that’s all.”

“Yeah, all right.” Dan rolled his eyes, but he was still smiling. 

They sat quietly for a few minutes, sipping their tea and exchanging glances. 

“So,” Dan said, into the silence, staring at his empty mug instead of Phil. “I’ve, well, I mean, I should go, you know, do uni stuff tomorrow, or whatever, but it’s kind of late, and I don’t know the buses, and last time I tried to- well, never mind, but you know-”

“Do you want to stay here?” Phil said, cutting across his rambling. “Tonight? I can get you a cab, but-”

“That’d be great,” Dan said, a relieved smile coming onto his face as he looked up at Phil. 

“Great,” Phil said, smiling back at him. “Do you want to, uh, sleep? You can have my bed. I’m not using it.”

“Do you, like, ever sleep?” Dan asked, with a small frown. “Or do you have, like, a coffin or something?”

“Well,” Phil said, shifting awkwardly. “I don’t- I mean, obviously I don’t sleep at night, but I- I don’t know, it doesn’t really feel the same.”

“No coffin, then?”

“No coffin,” Phil said, with a laugh. “I don’t think they’re comfortable.”

“Probably not,” Dan agreed. “I’m not really tired.” His stomach grumbled loudly, and he felt his cheeks flush. “I _am_ hungry, though,” he said, with a laugh. 

“Oh, shit,” Phil said. “Sorry, I don’t have any food. Do you want to, uh, go and get some?” He looked a little uncomfortable, clearly uncertain about how that worked. 

“I can order something,” Dan said, pulling out his phone, then realising he didn’t know any takeaway places in the areas. “Uh, can I borrow your laptop?”

“Sure,” Phil said, leaning across precariously to pull it out from under the table. “Hold on.” He powered it up, then passed it to Dan.

“Thanks.” A quick search found a local Indian place with decent reviews, so Dan called them up, pausing to check Phil’s address. He ordered - probably more than enough for one person, but he was hungry - then checked his wallet. Thankfully, he had cash. Phil took his laptop back when Dan was finished, leaning back into the sofa and starting to type and click. He had a curious style of typing - slightly stilted and awkward, more like Dan’s parents than anyone his age. That made some kind of sense, but it still felt weird to watch someone who looked like he was in his early 20s act like he was - well, literally a hundred years old. 

“You type like an old man,” he said, grinning as he jostled Phil’s knee. 

“Shut up,” Phil said. “I _am_ an old man.”

Dan laughed, shuffling up beside him to peer at the screen. He laughed at the page Phil had up: he’d searched _vampire hunter prophecy dreams_. 

“I don’t think Google is gonna help, mate,” Dan said, like he hadn’t considered searching something along those lines several times over the past months. 

“It might,” Phil said, sounding indignant. “It’s amazing, you know, the things they know.”

“I know,” Dan said, the corner of his mouth curling up against his will. 

“When I was- shut up,” he said, as Dan started echoing him in a mocking voice. “When I was your age we just had, you know, books and libraries.”

“Yeah, yeah, the Internet is great,” Dan said, rolling his eyes as he reached across to take the laptop off of Phil. “It’s also full of bullshit.” He pointed at the Yahoo Answers page Phil had clicked on - the question read _Rommate is vampire HELP_ and the further details section was several rambling, paranoid paragraphs about someone who was, in Dan’s opinion, just a bit weird and antisocial. “Like, this is just absolutely batshit,” he said, scrolling through the responses and laughing. 

“Okay, maybe,” Phil said defensively, pouting slightly. “Well, I don’t know, I’m trying to help you research your thing.”

“I don’t want to research my thing,” Dan said, snapping the laptop shut. “I want to ignore it until it goes away.”

“Well, that’s stupid.”

“Maybe,” Dan admitted, his expression softening. “I still don’t think _Yahoo Answers_ can help with this one.”

Phil laughed. “Fine, I’ll let it go,” he said. “For now.” Dan smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Let’s watch something instead.”

They settled - eventually - on watching _Twilight_ , illegally streamed in terrible quality and interrupted five minutes in by Dan’s food arriving. Phil watched him eat, weirdly fascinated, until Dan told him to fuck off and stop staring at him. The movie was kind of terrible, but fun in a way Dan hadn’t expected. Phil was alternately amused and offended by the vampires. He liked the sparkling - _way better than getting burned to a crisp_ , he said - but thought they were all too melodramatic, and said that blood was food, not heroin. _I’m not addicted to eating_ , he said, with a laugh, and Dan could feel warmth bubbling inside of him in response to Phil’s laughter. They searched for another vampire movie after it was over, and another after that, until Dan was struggling to keep his eyes open, leaning into Phil’s shoulder. 

“Shit, you should probably sleep,” Phil said, as the credits of the third movie rolled.

“Mm.” Dan nodded, nuzzling Phil’s arm. 

“C’mon, Dan,” he said, with a soft laugh, shaking Dan gently by the shoulder. “Hmm?” Dan blinked, staring blearily at Phil. 

“It’s bedtime.” 

Dan didn’t respond. With a soft sigh, Phil scooped Dan off the sofa, carrying him through to his bedroom like he weighed nothing. Dan just let him, too sleepy and surprised to react. He made a soft noise as Phil put him down and turned to leave, reaching out to grab the hem of his shirt. 

“Stay,” he said, the word slightly garbled. 

With a soft sigh, Phil sat on the bed, making Dan shuffle across to give him room. Dan shifted easily, coming back to rest his head against Phil’s chest as he settled down. Phil’s arm wrapped around him, his hand coming up to rest in his hair, and Dan let out a contented noise. The last impression he had before falling asleep was of Phil’s body, slightly cool against his cheek, and his voice, quietly mumbling something he couldn’t quite catch. 

⁂

Dan didn’t dream; or, if he did, he didn’t remember it. It was the most peacefully he’d slept in months. He woke up sprawled across the bed, one arm flung across Phil and a damp patch on Phil’s t-shirt next to his face. He grimaced, blinking as he tilted his head to look at Phil. His mouth tasted sour and stale, and he could feel the lines that sleeping in his jeans had imprinted into his skin. 

“Morning,” Phil said, smiling at him. His eyes were a little red, with dark shadows starting to show underneath. 

Dan made a noise that could have generously been interpreted as a greeting. He groaned, letting his head flop back onto Phil’s chest. He felt warmer, this morning, like he’d absorbed some of Dan’s heat. 

“Time is it?” he grumbled, his voice muffled by Phil’s shirt. 

“Dunno,” Phil said. Dan felt him shift, and made little displeased noises until he settled down again. “Just gone nine.” He yawned. “It’ll be light out.”

Dan made another grumbling noise. He hadn’t checked his schedule yet, but he was pretty sure there were a couple of days of bullshit before lectures started. Theoretically, he could just stay here. 

“Hey,” Phil said, gently shaking his shoulder. “Don’t fall asleep on me again.”

Dan grumbled some more, a high pitched whine creeping into his repertoire of noises. 

Phil huffed. “Da-an,” he said, drawing his name out. 

“Wha-at,” Dan said, echoing his tone. 

“It’s time to get up,” he said, jostling Dan’s shoulder again. 

“Are you kicking me out again?” Dan said, lifting his head and narrowing his eyes at Phil. 

“Well, not exactly,” Phil said, letting Dan slip off of him as he pushed himself up into a sitting position. “But I am sending you home. Sorry.”

“Ugh, fine,” Dan said, pushing himself up as well until he was sitting cross-legged on the bed. 

“I’ll call you a taxi,” Phil said, pulling out his phone. “I’ll pay for it, don’t worry,” he continued, talking over Dan’s protests. “Shut up. Hey, what’s your number?”

Dan sighed, taking Phil’s phone off of him to enter his new number.

“I’ll text you later,” Phil promised as he dialed the taxi firm. 

Dan let his eyes drift shut again, gently massaging circles into his temples, while Phil talked on the phone. 

“They’ll be here in 10 minutes,” Phil said, sliding off the bed. He disappeared through to the other room, and Dan followed, reluctantly, a moment later. 

“Here,” Phil said, handing Dan a £20 note as he entered the room. 

“That’s way too much, Phil,” Dan said, refusing to take it. “What the fuck?”

“You can give me the change later,” Phil said, insistently pushing the note into his hand. “Just take it, I don’t have anything smaller.” 

Dan sighed, rolling his eyes, but he shoved the money into his pocket. “So, I am going to see you again?” he said, biting his lip to hide the smile he couldn’t stop. 

“Of course you are,” Phil said, with a smile. “I’ll text you, okay?”

“Okay,” Dan said. 

He nodded, trying hard to believe him. He stood still for a moment, then shuffled awkwardly past Phil to get his shoes and jacket. 

“Bye, then,” he said, his hand on the door. 

“Bye,” Phil said, glancing up at him with a tired smile. 

Dan looked over his shoulder as he left, at Phil, slumped against the back of the sofa, and knew there was a lot he had left to learn about him. There was no reason to believe him, really - scraps of evidence that were hardly proof - but he couldn’t fight his gut on this one, despite his determination to stay skeptical. He believed - _something_. Maybe it wasn’t supernatural, but there was definitely _something_ going on with him. There was an explanation. There had to be. He went over it in his mind as he waited for the taxi, sitting on the same low stone wall he’d sat on last night. He was no scientist, but perhaps someone with a more scientific background would know something. Phil couldn’t be the only one, after all. He tried not to think the word - _vampire_ \- feeling an instinctive mixture of distaste and silliness in the cold light of day. Instead, he tried to think about the problem logically, limited by his tenuous grasp of biology. The taxi turned up while he was thinking. He was acutely aware of how he looked - wearing last night’s clothes, outside someone else’s flat - but he ignored any look the driver might have had on his face, continuing to ruminate in the back seat on the short drive back to his accommodation. He was startled by how close Phil’s flat was; he’d clearly taken the long route yesterday. 

His room looked bare, most of his things still in boxes, but he ignored them, moving instead to extract his laptop and set it up at the desk. It was a little old, the battery a little dodgy, so he went through the familiar routine of encouraging it to start up, tapping his fingers impatiently against the desk. Finally, it was ready, and he could start Googling: stupid phrases at first, until he stumbled upon forums and archives that looked semi-promising. There was, predictably, a lot of bullshit to sift through, but he dug through it for the things that sounded right. If there were other - _people like Phil_ \- lurking online, they managed not to be completely obvious about it. Well, Phil hadn’t exactly shouted about it - even if he _had_ been active on supernatural forums, posting avidly about every other kind of creature that couldn’t exist. What Dan managed to find was a lot of myths and legends, most of which were things he’d heard before, and a few posts from people who might have encountered something. _Might_ being the operative word. 

Dan gave up after a couple of hours of fruitless searching, collapsing on his unmade bed and ignoring the uncomfortable complaints coming from his stomach. It would be a miracle if he found anything online, and he didn’t have a _Buffy_ -style archivist to consult. He didn’t have anyone except for a reluctant and secretive vampire. Him, and the things that visited his dreams. They were, if anything, even less helpful. Why even bother giving him a stupid destiny if they weren’t going to explain it? What did they expect him to do?

He decided to take a nap instead of thinking about it any longer. He half-hoped, not daring to admit it, that the dream would come back and explain things properly. It didn’t, of course. All he dreamt about was food. He was trapped in a maze, he thought, hunting down cheese like a lab rat. Weird, but nothing supernatural. He tried to pretend he wasn’t disappointed. 

⁂

Phil texted him on Friday. Other things happened, too - he began getting settled and sorted with uni, started talking to some other people, but the most important thing was that text. It was short, sent just after sunset. _Come over tonight?_ Dan was halfway through his dinner, bland cafeteria fish and chips, when his phone buzzed in his pocket. He was already standing up before he finished reading, moving to dump the rest of his food and half-jogging outside. He tapped out a quick reply - _omw_ \- as he made his way over to the bus stop. He’d looked up the bus route earlier in the week, and memorised it, since his shitty new flip phone wouldn’t be able to help him. He scanned the timetable, grinning when he saw the next bus was due in 5 minutes. 

13 minutes later, he was on the bus, headed towards Phil’s flat. It didn’t take too long, and the walk at the other end was a brisk 10 minute stroll, hunched against the wind. He’d forgotten his coat, again. He was shivering slightly as he pressed the buzzer for Phil’s flat. Phil buzzed him in almost immediately, and he was waiting in the entrance to his flat as Dan came up the stairs, a smile on his face. 

“Hey,” Dan said, a smile splitting his face. 

“Hey,” Phil said, smiling back at him. “Do you own a coat?”

“I _do_ ,” Dan said defensively, pushing past Phil into the flat. “I just forgot it.”

“Mm-hm,” Phil said, letting the door swing shut behind him. 

“Shut up,” Dan said, kicking off his shoes. He collapsed onto Phil’s sofa with a sigh, lifting his legs when Phil came over. Phil raised an eyebrow, but sat down, and Dan promptly let his legs drop into his lap. 

“Long day?” Phil asked, his hand resting gently on Dan’s shins. 

Dan pulled a face. It hadn’t really been that long - he’d gotten up at noon and tried to catch up on the things he’d somehow already gotten behind on - but he still felt exhausted by the concept of having to do things. 

“Did you bring my change?”

Dan lifted his head to squint at Phil, trying to work out if he was kidding. “Yeah,” he said, pulling his wallet out of his pocket. He took out the change and chucked it in Phil’s general direction. 

“Thanks.” Phil leaned forward, his stomach pressing against Dan’s legs, to drop the money onto the table. “Hey, did you find anything out about your thing?”

“No,” Dan said. He closed his eyes, running one hand through his hair and gripping a fistful of fringe. 

Phil waited quietly for a moment, like he expected Dan to say something else. Dan just settled himself more comfortably into the sofa. “Are you hungry?” he said, instead of pressing the matter, which Dan was unbelievably grateful for. 

“Nah, I ate already,” Dan said. He cracked one eye open to peer at Phil. “You?”

“I’m good,” Phil said, with a small smile. “I didn’t invite you over to be a tasty snack.”

“That’s a shame,” Dan said, letting out a slight huff of laughter. 

Phil furrowed his brow. “What, did you want me to eat you?”

“No, I just- never mind,” Dan said, rolling his eyes. “So, if I’m not here to be a snack, what is it?”

“We’re friends, right?” Phil said. Dan felt his stomach twist. “I don’t know, I haven’t really had any friends in a while. I mean, I’ve had friends, shut up, but it’s difficult when you’re, you know-”

“An immortal freak?”

“Shut up,” said Phil, lightly slapping Dan’s leg. “I don’t think I’m immortal.”

“We can test it, if you like,” Dan said, with a cheeky grin. “No, I think I get it. I mean, it’s obviously not the same, but you know, with the visions and that, it’s been… difficult.”

“Yeah,” Phil said, his voice soft. “I don’t know, it’s nice to have someone to hang out with.”

Dan felt a warmth bubbling up in his chest. “Yeah,” he said.

They stayed quiet for a bit, a comfortable kind of silence, while Dan half-dozed. Phil started getting restless eventually, tapping his fingers against Dan’s legs until he kicked him lightly in the ribs with a quiet _oi_. 

“Sorry,” Phil said, clasping his hands together and stretching them out in front of him. 

“‘Sokay,” said Dan, sliding his legs off of Phil’s lap and onto the floor. “You wanna do something?”

Phil shrugged, an awkward gesture that exaggerated his lanky frame. “What d’you wanna do?” he asked. 

“I dunno, what do you have?” Dan said, glancing around the flat. He wasn’t sure what - _people like Phil_ \- did for money, but he seemed to be doing all right for himself. The TV looked pretty new, pretty expensive, and there were miscellaneous things cluttering every surface. There was a PS3, a Wii, and an XBox on the TV table, with a jumble of controllers alongside, and a sizeable DVD collection on the bookshelf. 

Phil shrugged again, indicating the TV. “I’ve got some games,” he said, sounding sheepish, “if that’s what you’re into. I’m rubbish, though. There wasn’t any of this sort of thing when I was your age.”

“God, you have to stop reminding me you’re like a hundred,” Dan said, pulling a face. “It’s so weird.”

Phil laughed. “But it’s true!”

“You don’t have to say it, though!”

“Well, I’m not gonna act like I’m twenty-whatever,” he said, with a smile. 

“It’s just so…” Dan struggled to come up with the right word for a moment, then gave up. “Is it weird for you? You know, being like, old, but also not old?”

“Some things are weird,” Phil said. “It’s difficult to act how people expect.” 

“Do you spend much time with people?” Dan asked, examining his face for any response. It was carefully blank. 

“Not really,” Phil said. He didn’t elaborate. 

Dan sighed. “Okay,” he said, heading across the room to examine Phil’s eclectic collection of video games. “Want me to kick your ass at _Mario Kart_?”

“Sure,” Phil said, with a laugh. “I think I’m actually okay at that one.”

That turned out to be a lie. Dan beat him, easily, several times, and with several inventive handicaps in place. Eventually, Phil gave up, dropping his controller on the table and just watching Dan play alone, with occasional commentary. It had been a while since Dan had played - he didn’t have his own Wii, and he’d lost contact with friends who did, so even when he did feel like playing something, _Mario Kart_ wasn’t an option. Which was kind of a shame, because he was pretty good at it. It was nice to have Phil cheering for him as well. 

After a while of playing, Dan was starting to get too tired to focus on the screen properly, his vision blurring. He powered down the console, putting the disc away and neatly piling the controllers on top of it. 

“You want to go to bed?” Phil asked, watching Dan from the sofa. 

The question made Dan’s stomach twist, or perhaps it was the soft tone of it. He wasn’t really sure how he felt about Phil; with everything else going on, he hadn’t really devoted any time to that particular path of introspection. So far in his life, he’d been semi-successfully repressing any feelings he’d had towards other guys, and he seriously doubted that a hundred-year-old vampire was the right person to start exploring those things with. It was just another layer of complication to add to an already-weird situation. 

“No,” he said, the word interrupted halfway through by a yawn. Phil laughed. “I can stay up, come on. It’s easier for me to be nocturnal, right?”

“Well, for me, maybe,” Phil said. “Not sure how that’ll fit in with your course.”

“It’s Friday,” Dan argued, yawning again. “Come on. Let’s just… watch a movie, or something.”

“All right,” Phil said, giving him a dubious look. 

He let Dan pick the movie. They sat close together on the couch, Dan leaning into his shoulder, his legs tucked up beside him. His eyes started to drift shut a few minutes in, and he must have fallen asleep not long afterwards. He didn’t remember what happened in the movie, but it was something he’d seen before. 

He woke up alone, fully dressed, in Phil’s bed. It took him a moment to orient himself, pushing himself up and glancing around the room. Phil wasn’t there, so he went through to the living room, stifling a yawn. Phil was sitting on the sofa, doing something on his laptop. 

“I should start bringing pyjamas,” he said. 

Phil jumped, knocking the laptop sideways, and just managed to catch it before it slid off his lap. “You scared me,” he said reproachfully, glaring at Dan, who was trying not to laugh. 

“Sorry,” he said. The apology was probably ruined by his grin. 

“You can always borrow some pyjamas,” Phil said, running a hand through his hair. “I just thought it would be creepy to change your clothes while you were asleep.”

“Okay, yeah, good point,” Dan said, sliding onto the sofa next to him. He stared at Phil for a long moment, before something clicked. “Hey, you wear glasses?” Dan knew he’d seen them before, but he hadn’t realised there was anything weird about it until now. 

Phil raised one hand to his glasses, like he’d forgotten they were there. “Yeah,” he said, a little sheepishly. “I use contacts most of the time, but they start to get irritating after a bit.”

“Thought you guys had better sight than us normal people.” Dan was probably being rude, but he couldn’t repress his curiosity. 

“Well,” Phil said, shifting slightly in his seat. “It’s interesting, actually. The, uh, change - you know - improves our night vision by _loads_ , and I think it makes everything a bit sharper, but it doesn’t fix the, you know, lens problems, so, well, I always needed glasses when I was, you know, before, and I still need them now. My vision hasn’t gotten any worse, though, which is interesting, I think.”

“Huh,” Dan said. “That’s hilarious.”

Phil frowned, a slightly pouty expression coming onto his face. 

“I mean, it’s cool and all,” Dan said, hurriedly. “But, you know. It’s funny.”

“I guess it is,” Phil relented, giving him a small smile. 

There was a beat of silence. Dan used it to check the time on his phone - much earlier than he would usually get up, but probably getting on for Phil’s bedtime. Or whatever it was he did that wasn’t exactly sleep. 

“So,” he said, looking at Phil. “Guess it’s time for me to go?”

“Yeah,” Phil said, with an awkward smile. “If that’s okay?”

“It’s fine,” Dan said. “I’m a guest in your house and everything.”

“You can come back tonight, if you like,” Phil said. He gave Dan a look that was all big blue eyes. 

“Yeah,” Dan said, a smile filling his whole face. “I’d like that.”

⁂

A routine began to form over the course of the term. Dan would spend his weeks attending lectures, engaging in uni life, and trying broadly to exist as a normal human being. At the weekends, he’d undo all his progress to hang out exclusively with Phil and attempt to become fully nocturnal. He ended up living a tilted existence, never quite sleeping the same hours any two consecutive nights, which played havoc with his perception of time. There was an unexpected benefit, though: his weird dreams never came during daylight hours. He used that as a point of leverage with Phil, who tried to persuade him not to become nocturnal. It only worked a little; Phil still wanted him to address the dreams, which he refused point-blank to do. And sleeping during the day meant leaving Phil to sleep alone in his student room, because Phil would never let him stay long past sunrise. Still, time spent awake with him was, on reflection, better than time spent asleep. They watched things together - old movies that Phil had seen in cinemas, and newer ones that Dan was shocked he hadn’t seen yet. Phil’s knowledge of pop culture was extensive but haphazard, spanning decades and genres far beyond Dan’s. For all their differences, they found a lot of common ground in what they enjoyed. 

The end of term brought with it several things: more time with Phil, for one, as the nights grew longer. He was no more open about his sleep - or whatever he wanted to call it - but he was only willing to hang out under cover of darkness, his reasoning for which could have been biological or idiosyncratic. It also brought on preparation for Dan’s first set of exams, which meant less time with Phil and more time in the library - or more time sitting on Phil’s sofa with a textbook instead of a movie. Besides all that, the holidays were approaching, and Dan had to decide where he wanted to go. A month spent at home - away from Phil - was less than appealing, but he could hardly invite himself to live at Phil’s for the holiday, especially since he’d never been allowed to spend the day there before. And it wasn’t like he could afford a room in Manchester for that time, either. The only real options he had were to talk to Phil, to suck it up, or to lie. He didn’t really like any of those choices. But he liked the thought of not seeing Phil for a month even less. 

“Hey,” Dan said. It was a Saturday night, and he was curled up on Phil’s sofa, an unread textbook resting on his lap and his feet resting against Phil’s thigh. 

“Yeah?” Phil said, not looking up from his laptop. He was typing as fast as his awkward style would allow, his screen carefully tilted so Dan couldn’t see it. Dan had given up on being nosy about everything he did, and settled for being as nosy as Phil would allow, picking up small details and squirreling them away for later contemplation. 

“It’s nearly Christmas break,” he said, carefully searching Phil’s face for a reaction.

“Yeah?” Phil glanced up, a slightly blank look on his face. 

Dan suppressed a sigh. “So, you know, I won’t be at uni, for like, a month.”

Phil nodded, making a small noise of agreement, still typing. 

“But, well,” he said, pausing for a deep, steadying breath. “I don’t know if I want to stay at home that whole time. And I’d like to see you, too, you know, over the break.”

“I’d like to see you too,” Phil said, looking up to smile at him. 

“So…” Dan’s voice trailed off, and he had to take another breath to calm himself. “I mean, could I maybe stay with you? For a little bit?”

“Yeah, sure.” 

“Really?” Dan couldn’t help the surprised tone. He felt completely wrong-footed. 

“Yeah, why not?”

“Well, you’re just…” Dan paused, trying to think of the most tactful way to phrase it. “You’re a bit weird about me staying over. I mean, in the day, anyway.”

“Am I weird?” Phil said, pausing in his typing to frown at Dan. 

“Well, kind of,” Dan said, with a laugh. “No, yeah, thanks. Thank you.”

Phil just smiled, returning to whatever he was doing on his laptop. Dan watched him for a moment, confused and grateful, before returning to attempting to make sense of the text in front of him. 

⁂

Their routine stayed the same, Phil still sending Dan back to halls in the mornings, right up to the last day of term. Dan had started spending a few weeknights at Phil’s, sleeping in his bed and heading off to lectures in the morning while Phil did whatever weird shit he got up to while Dan was gone. He’d started leaving things there, too. Some things he just forgot, but others he left there on purpose - T-shirts in Phil’s drawers and a toothbrush by his sink. He was essentially moving in steadily, over the last couple of weeks of the term. By the time the last day rolled around, Dan had enough stuff at Phil’s that the rest of the things that weren’t going into storage could fit in the taxi over to the flat. Phil helped him lug his bags upstairs, lifting them easily despite his narrow frame. Dan made a mental note to ask him about that later. 

“So,” he said, standing awkwardly next to a pile of his stuff in Phil’s living room. 

“So,” Phil echoed, the smile on his face just as awkward as Dan’s posture. “I, uh, got some Dan-food in, if you’re hungry.”

“Dan-food?” Dan said, a smile quirking the corner of his mouth. “You mean, like, regular human people food?”

“Well, kind of,” Phil said, heading for the kitchen. “I’m not sure you eat like a regular human person, but I don’t know many of them.”

“I eat more normally than you, weirdo,” Dan said, following him. 

“Shut up, rat,” Phil said, opening a cupboard to reveal a selection of crisps and biscuits. 

Dan contemplated the selection for a moment before grabbing a pack of Monster Munch. “God, I haven’t had these since I was a kid,” he said, opening the bag and sniffing the pickled onion aroma. 

“I’ve never had them,” Phil said, watching him with open curiosity. “They weren’t around, you know, before.” 

“That is just _so_ tragic,” Dan said, giving him a pitying look. “They’re literally heavenly. Can’t you even just taste one?”

“Things taste different to me now,” Phil said, shaking his head. “I’d probably hate them. Well, I don’t know, but it’d really mess with me.”

“God, how do you even live?” said Dan, through a mouthful of crisps. “I’d literally die.”

“Without food? Yeah, you would,” Phil said, with a laugh. 

“No, you know what I mean, dick.” Dan flipped him off, his finger covered in delicious dust. 

Phil just shrugged. 

“Are there perks?” Dan asked, licking crumbs off of his fingers. “I mean, besides the eternal youth or whatever.”

“I guess,” Phil said, looking uncomfortable. He pulled a face as Dan ripped the crisp bag open and started licking the dust off of the inside. “Ugh, that’s gross.” 

“Shut up, bet you’re worse,” Dan said, sticking his tongue out at him. 

“I’m very tidy,” Phil protested. 

Dan cast a pointed look over to the living room and its mountains of clutter. 

“Shut up.”

“Yeah, whatever, mate,” Dan said, balling the wrapping up and scanning the room for a bin. Phil indicated the cupboard under the sink. 

“I don’t-” Phil stopped himself abruptly, frowning. “I mean, it’s difficult.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m not used to… talking about it.” He shifted his weight uncomfortably. 

“You don’t have to,” Dan said, leaning against the counter. “But, you know. You can. If you want to.”

“Yeah.” Phil smiled at him, small and hesitant. “Thanks.”

⁂

The first few days felt awkward, marking a change in the boundaries Phil had carefully laid out between their lives. For the first couple of days, Phil shut himself in his bedroom from sunrise to sunset, leaving Dan to his own devices in the rest of the flat. Mostly, he spent that time napping on the sofa, so he could spend more of the night hanging out with Phil. He was beginning to realise Phil had put up more walls between them than he’d thought. He’d felt like he’d been getting to know him quite well over the past couple of months, but Phil was proving to be more of an enigma than he could have imagined a year ago. It unsettled him. Although he felt he’d rather spend it with Phil, Dan felt obliged to spend Christmas with his family. He hadn’t told them where he was staying - just that he’d decided to stay in Manchester (the truth) to study for his first semester exams (a lie). 

The week spent with Phil was almost enough time to settle into their new routine. Dan quickly managed to flip to a nocturnal circadian rhythm, despite Phil giving him his bedroom at night to begin with. Dan ended up sleeping on the sofa, but that was better than not getting to spend his waking hours with Phil. Even when he was just studying while Phil did whatever he got up to on his laptop, it was nice to simply spend time together. It was the kind of low-effort friendship that Dan felt he was built for. 

He went back home for three days - Christmas Eve, Christmas Day, and Boxing Day - and suffered from what felt like jet lag as he was forced to revert to a diurnal schedule. It was fine - Christmas was always _fine_ \- but he spent the whole time waiting to leave again. His family chalked it up to exam anxiety; he let them. It was much, much easier than even beginning to explain the truth. 

Phil seemed - nervous, almost, when Dan returned to his flat. He’d gotten the train up on the evening of the 26th, eager to be back in Manchester, and took a taxi to Phil’s. He let himself in - Phil had given him a key, which was practical but still felt oddly touching. Phil was on the sofa, cross-legged, laptop on his lap. He jumped when the door opened, looking up at Dan with a nervous giggle. 

“God, you scared me,” he said. His expression was still very rabbit-in-the-headlights, his blue eyes wide behind his glasses. He was wearing pyjamas, his hair disordered, like he’d only recently gotten up. 

“Sorry,” Dan said, going through the routine of removing shoes and coat and finding a place for his bag. “I texted you on the train.”

“Right,” Phil said, searching on either side of him for his phone before spotting it on the table. “I totally saw that.” 

Dan laughed, crossing the room to sit next to him. 

“Did you have a good Christmas?” Phil asked, looking at him with wide-eyed curiosity.

“It was all right,” Dan said, with a shrug. “Do you celebrate?”

“Not really,” Phil said, glancing down at his screen. “I mean, you know - not any more.”

“Oh. Right.”

The awkward silence was palpable for a few seconds. 

“So, anyway,” Phil said, closing his laptop and sliding it off his lap. “I’ve been… thinking, I guess.”

“Shit, you think?” Dan said, feigning surprise. “Someone call the papers.”

“Shut up,” Phil said, lightly swatting his shoulder. “Anyway, I know you’re determined to become nocturnal, and it doesn’t seem fair to make you sleep on my sofa when I have a perfectly good double bed-”

“It’s a nice sofa,” Dan interrupted. It was; it was comfortable, and actually long enough for Dan to lie down, just about, which wasn’t usually the case. 

“So, okay,” Phil continued like Dan hadn’t said anything. “I was just gonna say, you know, if you’re all right with it, we can share. I just-”

“Yeah, that’s fine.”

“I guess I need to warn you,” Phil said. “It’s, uh. I don’t sleep like a normal person, you know?”

“I absolutely do not know, no,” Dan said, giving him a blank look. 

“Okay, yeah.” Phil tapped his leg, his fingers drumming out an anxious rhythm. “I guess you’ll, uh, see.”

“That is super fucking ominous, dude.”

Phil laughed. “Sorry, I don’t know how to explain it,” he said. “You can stay on the sofa if you want.”

“I’ll try the bed,” Dan said. “If you’re too freaky I can always leave.”

Phil shoved him gently, a good-natured smile on his face. He seemed to relax, just a little. His guard was lowered, perhaps, letting Dan in just a bit more. 

⁂

It was easy to settle back into their night-time routine of watching things together, playing some games, or just doing their own thing in the same space. Dan started getting tired early, having spent the day travelling, but he stubbornly refused to go to bed before Phil. He stopped trying to do anything that required any real attention at around four in the morning, settling instead for watching Phil argue with someone on Reddit. Phil was letting him look at his screen, for once, his head resting against Phil’s shoulder as he occasionally interjected, usually to argue on behalf of the person Phil was talking to. It was just annoying enough to keep Dan awake.

Dan was beginning to drift off when Phil finally shut down his laptop. 

“I’m heading to bed now,” he said, nudging Dan in the ribs. 

“Hm? Yeah,” Dan said, blinking rapidly. 

Phil stood up, putting his laptop on the table. “I’m gonna get changed, okay?”

“Yeah,” Dan said, watching him walk over to his bedroom. 

He sat still for a moment, gathering the energy to get up and then shaking himself awake when he started to drift off again. He finally managed to force himself upright, heading over to his bag to search for pyjamas and his toothbrush. He headed through to the bathroom and tried to change whilst brushing his teeth, semi-successfully. When he’d finished, he loitered awkwardly outside the bedroom, not sure whether Phil was ready for him to come in yet. He tried to look like that wasn’t what he’d been doing as he watched the door swing open and Phil emerge, walking past him towards the bathroom. He wasn’t sure he was convincing, but he headed into the bedroom, then stood awkwardly at the end of the bed as he tried to work out which side was Phil’s. Both bedside tables were stacked with odds and ends, and there were multiple books with bookmarks sticking out from between the pages. He started being nosy instead, examining the objects on the bookcase near the door while he waited for Phil to return. 

“What are you looking at?” Phil’s voice came from somewhere behind him, although he hadn’t heard any footsteps. 

“Nothing,” he said, slightly guiltily, as he turned around. 

“Hmm,” Phil hummed, slipping past him to sit on the edge of the bed. “So.”

“So,” Dan said, pausing for a moment before heading around the bed and perching on the edge. 

He looked at Phil for a long moment, making eye contact until they both broke and giggled. 

“So,” Phil said, with a smile. “This might be weird.”

“I’ve slept with you before,” Dan pointed out, then felt his face flush as his brain caught up with his mouth. “Shut up, you know what I mean.” He glared at Phil, who made an effort to suppress his giggles. 

“No, yeah, that’s true,” Phil said, still smiling. “I mean… well, I guess you’ll see.”

He slid under the covers, lying curiously stiffly on his back. Dan hesitated before joining him, lying on his side facing towards Phil. He watched him from under half-closed eyelids, his curiosity warring with the exhaustion weighing them down. Nothing was happening; Phil was just lying completely still, staring up at the ceiling. Dan just watched him for a few minutes, trying to figure out when it would start getting weird. He had no idea what to expect, but he was expecting _something_ to happen. 

“Hey, Phil,” he whispered, shuffling closer to him. 

No response. Phil was completely motionless. 

“Hey.” He repeated himself, slightly louder, pushing himself up on his elbow. 

Phil’s eyes were still open, staring blankly at the ceiling. Dan watched him carefully for a minute; still nothing. 

“Phil,” he whispered, not daring to speak any louder. 

He waved his hand above Phil’s face. No response. 

“Okay,” he said, still whispering. “That’s pretty weird, I guess.”

Cautiously, he poked Phil in the cheek. He was cold, and oddly stiff. Scrambling into a kneeling position, Dan tried to lift Phil’s arm from where it lay against his side. It was locked in place, impossible for him to move. Well - perhaps with a greater effort, he could have moved it, but it felt like it would sooner break. 

“Fucked up,” Dan breathed, more to himself than anything. 

He rearranged the covers around Phil and settled back down next to him, this time facing away from him. It was slightly unnerving, like sleeping next to a doll, and it took him a long time to calm his racing thoughts down into something more conducive to sleep. He tried not to dwell on it - tried not to let it bother him, so that tomorrow, he could stay here, and not be relegated to the sofa. It was, after all, just Phil. Still in there, somewhere, was Phil. Hopefully. 

⁂

Dan woke up slowly, the disorientation of sleeping somewhere different to the last place he slept hitting first. It took him a moment to remember where he was, and another moment to figure out that he was lying against Phil, his head resting on his chest. Cautiously, he lifted his head, and he was relieved to see Phil smiling down at him. 

“Hey,” he said, smiling reflexively. 

“Hey,” Phil said. “How’d you sleep?”

“All right.” He let his head flop back onto Phil’s chest, his eyes falling shut again. “You?”

“Same as usual.” Phil’s tone was light and conversational. “Was it, you know, weird?”

“Kind of,” he said. “Looked like you were dead.”

“I am dead, I think,” Phil said.

“Fuck off.”

“Well, I don’t know, undead, then.”

“That’s absolutely bullshit,” Dan said, not opening his eyes. “You’re not dead, you’re just… different.”

Phil laughed, the movement jostling Dan’s head. “Sure, whatever.”

Dan made a disgruntled humming noise, but decided not to push it. He was starting to drift off again, not yet ready to face the day - or, well, the night. 

“Hey, are you falling asleep on me?” Phil’s voice resonated through his chest, the sound of it deep and comforting. 

“No,” Dan lied. 

“You can keep sleeping, but I’ve got to get up.”

Dan made a whining noise, attempting to cling onto Phil as he slid out from underneath him and giving up when it became obvious that was only going to end with him falling on the floor. Grumbling, he rolled over, his eyes still firmly shut. He waited a moment, then cracked his eyes open, lifting his head to scan the room. Phil had vanished. Dan made a few more groaning noises for good measure, forcing himself upright. The air was a little chilly, so he wrapped himself in a blanket before stumbling through to the kitchen. Phil wasn’t there, but the food he’d bought for Dan was, so he began rummaging around for something edible. 

“Oh, you _are_ awake, then.” Phil’s voice made Dan startle guiltily, like he wasn’t meant to be eating the food that Phil had bought specifically for him. 

“Yeah,” Dan said, through a mouthful of toast. “Hungry.”

Phil nodded. Dan watched him walk over to the freezer with vague interest, continuing to munch on his toast. He pulled out a dark rectangular object and set it on the counter, bending down to pull some kind of appliance out of the cupboard. He carried it across to the sink, half-filled it with water, then set it down on the counter and plugged it in, flicking on the switch. 

“What’s that?” Dan asked, curiosity getting the better of him. 

“Oh, it’s a water bath,” Phil said, leaning against the counter. “Pretty neat, right?”

“Sure,” said Dan, taking another bite. “What does it do?”

“Uh, it warms the water up.” 

“Sure. What for?”

“For, uh, warming other things up.” Phil shifted his weight from one foot to the other. 

Dan frowned. There was a beat of silence, then his eyes widened. “Oh, shit, is that blood?” he said, nodding at the dark rectangle sitting on the counter. 

“Uh, yeah,” Phil said, his gaze dropping to the floor. 

“Sick.”

“Oh,” said Phil. “I mean, it’s not- I wouldn’t-”

“Stupid, I mean, like, cool, you know?”

“Oh. Right, of course.”

Dan laughed, shaking his head. “Idiot.”

“Shut up.”

Dan finished his toast, brushing crumbs off his fingers on his pyjama trousers, then popped another couple of slices into the toaster. Phil watched him with mild interest, clearly finding his eating habits just as strange as Dan found his. 

“How long does that take?” Dan said, nodding at the water bath. 

“A while,” Phil said, with a rueful smile. 

“Can’t you just microwave it?”

Phil pulled a face. “I _could_ , but it wouldn’t be the right temperature, and it’d probably be cold in the middle, or something. Ugh.”

“I’d just microwave it,” Dan said, with a grin. 

Phil stuck his tongue out at him. “Shut up.”

Dan’s toast popped, making him jump. Phil laughed, so Dan flipped him off, turning around to extract his toast and spread a generous quantity of margarine and Marmite on it. Phil pulled a face when Dan shoved a whole slice in his mouth, nearly managing to engulf the whole thing. Dan gave him a look, and he rolled his eyes, turning away to check on the water bath instead. Dan wasn’t sure how he could tell, but evidently it was at the right temperature, since Phil was putting the bag of blood into the water now. 

“So, how much do you need to eat- or, uh, drink?” Dan frowned thoughtfully. 

“Depends,” Phil said, with a shrug, leaning against the counter again. 

Dan waited for him to elaborate. Phil didn’t, pulling out his phone instead. 

“All right, keep your secrets,” Dan said, shaking his head. 

Phil stayed quiet, but Dan thought he saw the corner of his mouth quirk. He finished his toast in a couple of bites, then washed the plate and knife. He hung around awkwardly, not what sure what to do with himself now he was out of food, but not wanting to leave. He watched Phil instead, perching precariously on the counter. Phil was still looking at something on his phone, but he put it away after a moment, turning back to the water bath and gently agitating the bag. 

“How d’you know when it’s ready?” Dan asked, swinging his legs, his heels bouncing gently against the cabinet. 

Phil shrugged. “Dunno. It’s warm, I guess.”

Dan rolled his eyes. “How long have you been doing this?”

“A while,” Phil said, with a small smile. “God, you’re so nosy.”

“I can stop.”

“Can you?”

“Maybe,” Dan said, smiling. 

Phil laughed. “It’s just weird to talk about it, you know?” he said. “It’s basically been a secret for, you know-”

“Eighty years? Jesus,” said Dan. “What, don’t you have any other friends?”

“Shut up, I have friends,” Phil said, poking his tongue out. “It’s just difficult!”

“No, yeah, I guess.” Dan grinned. “Still, though. You _can_ talk to me. If you, like, want to.”

“Yeah, I know,” Phil said, with a smile. “Thanks.” 

Dan felt himself flushing, his gaze dropping to stare past his feet to the ground. He sat there in awkward silence for a moment, before returning his attention to Phil. He was fishing the bag out of the bath now, pulling a cup out of the cupboard he’d told Dan to stay out of. It was opaque plastic, green, with an image of _Shrek_ and a matching straw. Dan watched, oddly fascinated, as Phil cut open the plastic bag and squeezed the liquid out into the cup. He snapped the lid into place and stuck the straw through the hole. 

“What?” Phil said, frowning at Dan, who realised a little too late that he was staring. 

“Sorry,” he said, dropping his gaze. “I’m being nosy.”

Phil laughed. “It’s not that interesting, really.” 

His lips closed around the straw, and Dan was staring again, but he couldn’t help it. Phil’s lips were full and slightly shiny, and the pout accentuated his high cheekbones. Dan had to tear his gaze away as Phil glanced up at him, his blue eyes wide and curious. Mumbling something about showering, Dan stumbled out of the room, heading for the bathroom. Locking the door behind him, he perched on the edge of the bath, his heart thumping in his ears. He’d noticed, in an abstract way, that Phil was a very attractive man. He was aware, as well, that his capacity for noticing the attractiveness of other men was probably not exactly heterosexual of him. Knowing that was one thing, but getting turned on by the image of Phil sucking blood - literal _human_ blood, out of a _Shrek_ cup - was a whole different ball game. Putting the image firmly out of his mind, he turned the shower on, quickly stripping while he waited for the water to warm up. His shower was quick and perfunctory, not allowing himself to linger, and it was only once the water was off that he realised he’d forgotten to get a towel. 

“Phil?” he called. Then again, louder: “Phil?”

“Yeah?” Phil’s voice sounded like it was coming from some distance away. 

“Can you bring me a towel?”

Dan thought he could hear Phil laughing. “Yeah, sure,” he said. Dan listened intently for a couple of minutes, then jumped when he heard Phil knocking at the door. “I’ll leave it outside, okay?” he said. 

“Okay,” Dan said. 

He waited, shivering slightly, then slipped the door open and grabbed the towel, wrapping it around himself. Peering around the door, he checked the coast was clear, then darted out and found one of his bags and dug some clean clothes out. He slipped back into the bathroom and quickly rubbed himself dry, tugging his clothes on haphazardly. He hung his towel on the rail then headed out into the hallway. 

“Phil?” he called, wandering towards the living room. 

“In here,” Phil replied. 

He was on the sofa, _Shrek_ cup in one hand and laptop balanced on his crossed legs. 

“Hey,” Dan said, grabbing his own laptop out of his bag and heading over to join him. 

“Hey,” Phil said, smiling at him, his eyes crinkling behind his glasses. 

Dan settled onto the sofa, booting up his laptop and resting it on his lap. He looked over at Phil while he waited, watching him take a long sip from his cup as he scrolled through a Reddit thread about werewolves. 

“Hey, do you think werewolves are, like, actually real?” Dan asked, furrowing his brow. 

“Course they are,” Phil said, not looking up as he started to type out a reply with one hand. 

“Okay, but like, have you ever met one?” Dan asked, shuffling so he was facing Phil. “Like, do you have any proof, or are you just saying that?”

Phil gave him a look. “I haven’t technically met one,” he admitted. “But I’m sure they do exist. They have to!”

“Why do they _have to_?” Dan asked, rolling his eyes. 

“Well, it just makes sense, doesn’t it?” Phil said, lowering his cup to give Dan an earnest look. 

“No the fuck it doesn’t,” Dan said. His laptop was prompting him to log in, but he ignored it. 

“Why shouldn’t they exist?” Phil was still looking at Dan, his expression completely earnest. It made arguing against him feel something like kicking a puppy. “I mean, I exist, right?”

“Well, that’s- come on, that’s completely stupid,” Dan said, sighing. “I mean, just because _you_ exist, why the fuck should _werewolves_ be real? That’s just- you know that’s not, like, a real argument, right?”

“Okay, but why wouldn’t they?”

“That’s- that’s not even an argument!” Dan could hear the pitch of his voice rising with his frustration. “You can say that about anything! Why wouldn’t the goddamn fucking- I don’t know- flying spaghetti monster exist!”

“Well, it _might_ ,” Phil said, his tone just as reasonable as his argument wasn’t. 

“Oh, shut up,” Dan said, his expression moving from annoyed to resigned. “That’s such a stupid argument.”

“Hey,” Phil said, sounding hurt, his expression turning to a pout. “Just because you can’t prove they don’t exist.”

“That’s not how that works, Phil,” Dan said, frowning. “That’s not how anything works.”

“Well… can you prove that’s not how it works?” Phil was quite obviously trying not to smile at this point. Dan was torn between being annoyed that he wasn’t taking this seriously, and relieved that he hadn’t genuinely upset him with this argument. 

“I’m not engaging with this any more,” Dan said, turning back to his laptop and tapping out his password. “I’m not talking to you until you can be sensible.”

“Aw,” Phil said. Dan had to force himself not to look at him. “Fine, be like that.” 

Dan stayed quiet, but he could feel a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He tried to suppress it, unsuccessfully, as he launched his browser and navigated to Tumblr. Phil stayed quiet, seemingly happy to let the argument go. Dan could hear him return to his Reddit argument, his fingers furiously tapping out whatever inane statement he’d thought up. With a soft sigh, Dan began scrolling, quickly losing himself in a stream of gifs and silly text posts. 

⁂

The rest of the night was pretty uneventful. Dan managed to get some studying done, although not as much as he felt he should have. Phil disappeared for about an hour not long after midnight, and didn’t offer an explanation. Dan didn’t ask, assuming that it wouldn’t get him anywhere. If Phil wanted to tell him, he would, and if he didn’t, no amount of questioning would get it out of him. Dan just had to accept that was his nature. Or try to, anyway. 

Phil seemed to have an inbuilt knowledge of when sunrise was approaching. Either that, or he’d just looked it up online. Dan began to get sleepy a few hours earlier, still not wholly used to their nocturnal schedule, but he kept on scrolling until Phil had disappeared and returned, clad in colourful pyjamas. 

“I’m going to bed,” he said. 

“I’ll be there in a minute,” Dan said, scrolling up to like a post he’d just seen. 

Phil had vanished again when he looked up. Dan spent another minute scrolling before he managed to force himself to shut his laptop down. He got ready for bed in the bathroom, then joined Phil in the bedroom. He was lying down, staring at the ceiling, and for a moment Dan thought he’d already - fallen asleep? He wasn’t sure how to think of it. 

“Hey,” Phil said, tilting his head and smiling at Dan. “You gonna join me?”

“Uh- yeah, sorry,” Dan said, startling slightly. He crossed the room quickly, climbing into the bed next to Phil. 

“It’s weird, isn’t it?” Phil said, his eyes fixed on the ceiling. “You don’t have to, you know. Be here.”

“It’s a bit weird,” Dan said, rolling onto his side and contemplating Phil’s profile. “But, I don’t know. I think I could get used to it.” He paused, then smiled. “It’s better than the sofa, anyway.”

Phil laughed, quietly. “Maybe I’ll get a pull-out sofa bed thing,” he said. “You know, so you can have your own.”

“I’m not gonna stay with you forever,” Dan said. 

“I know.”

There was a moment of silence. “I don’t mind, anyway,” Dan said, rolling onto his back and looking at the ceiling. 

Phil didn’t respond. Dan waited for a moment, then glanced over at him. He was still, quiet, and Dan thought he must have already entered into whatever passed for sleep for him. 

“Thank you,” he said, after a long silence, so quietly that Dan couldn’t be sure he hadn’t imagined it. 

Dan stayed quiet, but he could feel a smile tugging at his lips. He liked this - the idea that Phil was sharing something with him that no one else got to see. It made him feel like something precious. 

⁂

He had a little over two weeks to spend with Phil before he had to go back to his uni room and his first semester exams and everything else that wasn’t this little bubble they’d created for themselves. It was curious; Dan was finding it harder and harder to deny his attraction to Phil, but, more than that, he was finding that he simply got along with Phil like no one else. Dan was finding it difficult to even contemplate trying to make a move at the risk of losing that friendship again. He had no idea how Phil felt about men in general, or Dan specifically. Plus, he was literally, like, a hundred years old. It would probably be weird for him to date someone so much younger than himself. Overall, _Operation: Suppress Crush_ was a go. Dan just had to trust himself to not let anything slip. That was easy, right?

It was easier once he’d moved back out. It was harder, too. He found it difficult to transition back to sleeping at night - to sleeping alone, although Phil slept like a corpse. He’d have liked to stay there forever, perhaps, just existing in a bubble outside of time. Unfortunately, the world marched ever onwards and carried Dan with it, whether he wanted it or not. 

For the moment, he took his energy and threw it into his degree, giving the exams everything he could. He went back to the routine of spending his weekends with Phil, not quite becoming nocturnal, but switching around enough that his sleeping schedule was completely messed up again. He tried to think carefully platonic thoughts about Phil and failed completely. He managed, at least, to keep them to himself. Things settled down, a little, after his exams. There was a month of tension before he found out he’d passed them. That was something. 

After that, though, things started to go a bit downhill. As if the stress of navigating a degree and an unrequited crush weren’t enough, the visions had begun to return full force. He’d had a few months of freedom, and he’d been optimistic enough to think that maybe they’d leave him alone. They clearly had other ideas. The hallucinations had returned with a vengeance, and they weren’t sticking to the nights, either. He was struggling to sleep at night now, only really managing to nap during the day, when the nightmares didn’t wake him as easily. He was too tired to leave his room most of the time, and he’d even stopped going to Phil’s every weekend, giving him the excuse of _too much work_ , which was accepted without question. Even when he did get out, he was still seeing things in his lectures, which made it very difficult to concentrate - and that wasn’t something he found easy at the best of times. 

Time passed, and continued to pass. He wasn’t aware of how, or when, but he found himself flung into the middle of exams with no idea how he’d gotten there, and nowhere near enough knowledge to get him through them. He managed to turn up, just about, but he wasn’t surprised when he heard he’d failed them. He wasn’t even disappointed. He didn’t have the energy to react. His parents came up, and helped him move all his things back down to Wokingham, and he reinstated himself in his childhood bedroom. He settled back into his old routine, like the past year hadn’t even happened. 

Technically, he was supposed to resit his exams in August, but he couldn’t face it. He didn’t know what he wanted to do any more. He wasn’t sure he was a creature with wants. His only purpose in life was to be tormented. He ate, he drank, he slept when he could, and he fought himself. He holed up in his bedroom, refusing contact with anyone, or, when the air got too tight for him to breathe, he left, wandering the streets aimlessly for hours. Everything, everything he’d done, it had all been for nothing. He was stuck again, with no escape. No way out. No way through. Only himself, and the voices. 

He was - sitting, he thought. Yeah, he was… somewhere in town, on a bench. It was getting chilly. Was summer over already? Or was it just night? It was getting dark, too. There was a crow, he thought, or something from that family, anyway. It was sitting on the bench, too, and talking to him. Its voice was croaky and hoarse, and it was berating him about his destiny. Nothing he hadn’t heard before, so he was ignoring it. There was someone else talking to him, as well. A different voice - a familiar voice? They were saying his name. Dan made an effort to blink away the shadows, and squinted up at the person standing over him. 

“Dan? Dan, are you okay?” 

“Oh, hey,” he said, frowning. “Phil? What’re you doing here?” He glanced around, trying to work out where he was. “Am I in Manchester?”

“What? No, you’re in Wokingham,” Phil said, sitting next to him on the bench. The crow - or whatever - had flown away. Or never been there, perhaps. “Dan, what’s wrong?”

“Oh, you know,” Dan said, with a humourless giggle. “It’s back.” He waved vaguely at the shadow-figure that was loitering in the corner of his vision. 

“Oh. Shit, I’m sorry,” Phil said. Dan laughed at that. There was something - not funny, but something like that - about Phil apologising to him. “I was worried about you.” Phil’s voice was so soft and gentle, it made Dan want to cry. 

“It’s- I’m-” Dan’s voice broke. He was crying, he thought. His cheeks felt wet. 

“Oh, Dan.” Phil had wrapped an arm around his shoulders, pulling him in for a hug. Dan let himself be enveloped, his breath coming in heaving sobs. “Hey, it’s okay, it’s okay, I’m here for you.” One of Phil’s hands was stroking the back of his head, gentle and soothing. “It’s gonna be okay, you’ll be okay.” He kept on talking, just repeating himself over and over, until Dan’s breathing had settled and he managed to pull himself back, wiping his cheeks and nose with his sleeve. 

“Thanks,” Dan said, his voice a little shaky. “I’m- it- I- what are you doing here, anyway?”

“I- well,” Phil said, clearly taken aback. “I was worried about you, idiot.”

“Shut up,” Dan said, a slightly hysterical giggle rising in his throat. “How’d you find me?”

“Well, you told me where you came from,” Phil said, with a sheepish look. “So, I mean, I figured I might run into you at some point-”

“How long have you been here?” Dan interrupted, staring at him. 

“Um. A week, I think?”

“That’s mad,” Dan said, with a shocked laugh. 

“Your mum’s mad,” Phil said, poking his tongue out at him. Dan laughed. “So, what, you’ve just been wandering around having visions all summer?”

“Yeah, maybe,” Dan said, frowning. “Not sure. What’s the date?”

“It’s September,” Phil said, pulling out his phone to check. “Yeah, it’s the fifth.”

“Shit.” Dan stared at the floor for a moment. “I think I need help.”

“What do you want me to do?” Phil asked. 

“I don’t- God, I have no idea.” Dan laughed, hollowly. “I mean, okay, so, these visions, they’re like, a prophecy thing, right? So… I don’t know how to make them stop, and I don’t know how to do whatever the fuck they want me to do, and- I don’t know, should I see, like, a psychiatrist? Could they do anything for me? Is there even, like, any point in doing _anything_?”

“I don’t have the answers, Dan,” Phil said. He sounded sad. “I don’t know what to do. But… I’d like to help you, if I can.”

“I don’t know if you can,” Dan said, lifting his gaze to look him in the eye. “But, you know… it’s better than- fuck it, it’s _got_ to be better than whatever I’m doing.” 

“We’ll figure it out,” Phil said, gently gripping his shoulder. “We will.”

⁂

Dan moved back to Manchester. His parents were - they were surprised, but they also seemed relieved. He hadn’t realised how much they’d noticed. He felt kind of stupid for that - of course they’d noticed, but he’d been too wrapped up inside himself to notice them noticing. He felt complicated about that. The bridges between him and his family were in tatters, and he was afraid to begin the work of repairing them. He wasn’t sure he was in the right state to do that. He wasn’t sure if he would be. 

He moved in with Phil, of course. There wasn’t a question about it. Phil made space for him, and he filled it. Money wasn’t mentioned; Dan still had no idea how Phil made his, but it didn’t seem to be an object. Dan was hardly in a position to argue; he was in no state to start working. He settled in, and things began. He managed to get an appointment with a psychiatrist, and he tried to explain the visions without explaining the things that were - well, _real_. They tried some drugs, and, to his surprise, they helped. He’d begun to accept this whole destiny thing was something real, but- well, maybe the line between real and not-real wasn’t as clear as he’d thought. He started seeing a therapist, as well, and that helped, too. He began to develop real strategies for dealing with things. He wasn’t exactly facing his purported destiny - but he wasn’t running away from it, either. He was fighting it. 

There was just one other thing bothering him: whatever was going on between him and Phil. They were living together, sharing a bed and sharing a life, but Dan still had no idea how Phil felt about him. And he was finding it more and more difficult to keep his own feelings hidden. 

Like now, for instance: waking up to find himself curled against Phil’s hip as he sat in bed reading. 

“Morning,” he said, peering up through his fringe at Phil. 

“Morning,” Phil replied, the corner of his mouth quirking at their shared joke. He was wearing his glasses, and his hair was slightly disordered. He looked… absolutely beautiful. It made Dan’s breath catch in his throat. 

“Whatcha reading?” Dan asked, squinting at his book, trying to read the cover from the awkward angle he was at. 

“Just a book,” Phil said, sliding the bookmark into place and putting it to one side. 

“Ooh, mysterious,” Dan said, grinning up at him. 

Phil just smiled, in a way that Dan imagined was fond. It hurt his heart a little bit. 

“So,” he said, pushing himself up into an approximation of a sitting position. “Is there food?”

“I think so,” Phil said, sliding out from under the covers and heading towards the kitchen. Dan might have been staring, but that was most Phil’s fault for wearing thin cotton pyjamas when he had a bum like that. “I can go shopping later if you need anything.”

“Mm,” Dan said, still staring after Phil as he left the room. “No, I can do it.”

“Well, I can help,” Phil said, his voice slightly echoey. Probably in the bathroom, then. Dan realised he had no idea what people like Phil got up to in there. Presumably showering, but like, what was their shit like? With an all liquid diet? Ew.

Shaking the thought out of his mind, Dan dragged himself out of the bed. He ambled through to the kitchen and scavenged up some breakfast, situating himself on the sofa to eat. Phil joined him a few minutes later, his hair neatly combed and tied into a ponytail, and his glasses gone. He settled onto the sofa next to Dan, tucking one leg neatly underneath himself. 

“What’s that?” he asked, wrinkling his nose. 

“It’s a Pop-Tart,” Dan said, waving it gently. “It’s, like, an American crime against breakfast.”

“Is it… good?”

“Does a food have to be good?” Dan asked, licking icing off of his fingers. “Is it not enough for it to be loaded with sugar?”

Phil frowned. “Food is meant to be good, I think.”

Dan grinned, scooping out a little of the strawberry filling and dabbing it on Phil’s nose. “Not always,” he said. 

Phil went cross-eyed trying to look at the end of his own nose, making Dan laugh. “What’s that?” he asked, cautiously touching it with one finger. 

“It’s like, jam, I guess?” Dan said. “Only not as good.”

“Gross,” Phil said, wiping it off his nose, then reaching across and wiping his finger on Dan’s t-shirt. 

“Hey!” Dan protested, flailing at Phil’s arm with his free hand. 

Phil stuck his tongue out at him. It was oddly endearing. Dan sighed, wiping at the stain on his t-shirt. 

“Guess I deserved that,” he said, shoving the rest of his Pop-Tart into his mouth. 

Phil grinned, leaning unsteadily across to the table for his laptop. Somehow, he managed to resituate himself with it on his lap without falling to the floor. Dan finished chewing, then flopped heavily into Phil’s side, his head coming to rest against his shoulder. Phil lifted one hand to gently pat Dan’s head, then returned to typing. He was embroiled in yet another Reddit argument, this time about selkies, and Dan began to wonder whether _that_ was how he made money. Maybe people paid him to stop arguing with them. 

“Why do you do that?” Dan asked, frowning at the rambling and mostly nonsensical Phil was typing. 

“Do what?” Phil asked, pausing briefly to consider his next word. 

“That,” Dan said, nodding at the screen. 

“People need to know the truth,” Phil said, decisively tapping enter and watching his comment post. 

“Do they, though?” Dan asked, sceptical. “Like, for one thing, most of the stuff you’re posting is absolute bollocks - no, shut up, it _is_ \- and secondly, do you _really_ want people to know? Like, that you’re a-”

“Don’t say it-”

“You know what.”

“Well, I’m not going around telling people _that_ ,” Phil said, with a final sort of air, like that settled everything. 

“But, like,” Dan said, shuffling into a proper sitting position. “Even if you’re not telling people what you are, isn’t it easier for you if no one believes in things like that?”

Phil paused. “I mean, _maybe_ ,” he admitted. 

Dan had a sudden epiphany. “Oh, you’re _stupid_ ,” he said. 

“Shut up,” Phil said, swatting at him without looking and nearly catching him in the eye. 

Dan grinned, settling back against his shoulder. “Okay, I think I get it.”

Phil huffed softly. 

⁂

There was a slow and steady blurring of their relationship. It was little things, like cuddling on the sofa turning to soft kisses pressed to cheeks and hairlines. Nothing that couldn’t be platonic, but only if you were incredibly determined to interpret it that way. The uncertainty was driving Dan up the wall, but his ability to have a straight ( _ha, ha_ ) conversation about his feelings was practically non-existent. So, instead of doing the sensible thing, Dan just kept pushing the boundaries, figuring something had to give at some point. And, hey, if he fucked everything up, that was pretty much inevitable, really. 

They’d been arguing about something. Something stupid, probably. It had turned to playful roughhousing, and somehow they’d ended up like this: with Dan, flat on his back, and Phil, straddling his waist, pinning his arms above his head. Dan was breathing heavily, a fact he tried to put down to the physical exertion and not the simple fact of Phil’s proximity. Phil’s face was so close he had to be able to feel Dan’s breath puffing against his cheek. He didn’t seem to be at all ruffled, his breathing completely steady. Filled with a kind of reckless bravery - or stupidity - Dan lifted his head, with all the force he could muster, and pressed his lips to Phil’s in a clumsy, desperate kiss. There was a brief, frozen moment when he thought Phil was going to kiss him back, and then he pulled away, releasing his grip and backing off so quickly Dan couldn’t react until he was halfway across the room. Dan pushed himself up, cautiously looking over to where Phil was sitting, the fingers of one hand lightly brushing his lips. 

“Sorry,” he said, although it felt wrong, just for something to say. “I, uh, I don’t know what I was thinking, I’m- I’m sorry, it won’t happen again, just forget it, honestly, it was really stupid-”

He couldn’t stop the words from flowing once they started, but a look from Phil, with an unreadable emotion, silenced him mid-word. 

“I- I’m,” Phil said. “I don’t understand.” He was looking at Dan, that unreadable expression still on his face. 

“It- shit, I’m sorry,” Dan said. “I guess I just- sorry, I just, like, developed a huge fucking crush on you, and like, _obviously_ you don’t feel the same way-” Phil gave him a sharp look, and he stopped rambling for a moment. 

“Dan, you’re, what, twenty years old?” Phil asked, his long fingers gripping his knees. 

Dan had to think about it for a moment. “Uh, yeah,” he said. 

“I’m, like, literally.” He paused, his brow furrowing as he tried to do the maths. “I’m like, eighty years older than you, mate.”

“What, _that_ ’s your objection?” Dan snorted. “Shit, I thought you were just, like, straight or whatever.”

Phil raised one eyebrow at him, or tried to, anyway. His face ended up contorting in a way that was slightly ridiculous. “I’m obviously not straight,” he said. 

“Well, yeah, that’s what I thought,” Dan said. “But, I mean, come on, you can’t have just spent- however the fuck long, I don’t know- not dating because everyone is like, fifty years younger than you-”

“No, I mean, that’s not- okay, I _haven’t_ , but-” Phil huffed. “That’s not the _point_.”

“I’ll still die before you,” Dan said, with a grin. 

“Fuck off,” Phil said. “Look, I’m just saying- I didn’t expect- I thought _you_ thought I was some weird old creep.”

“Well, maybe you are,” Dan said. “But like, you’re also kinda hot.”

Phil laughed. 

“No, shut up,” Dan said, frowning. “I don’t know, I mean, this was probably a bad way to go about this whole thing, but-”

“You think?” Phil said, doing the thing with his face again. 

“Shut _up_ ,” Dan said, grinning. “Anyway, I’m like, ninety percent sure we can just pretend this whole thing never happened.”

“Or?” Phil said, with raised eyebrows. 

“Or… we can not do that?” 

“I like that option,” Phil said, with a smile.

“Yeah.”

**Author's Note:**

> Shoutout to my pals, chicken & daye, for putting up with me. God knows I will call on you again and again.


End file.
